


Hell Yeah Habeas Corpus

by 1f_this_be_madness



Category: A Time To Kill - John Grisham, Indiana Jones Series, Legally Blonde (2001), Legally Blonde: the musical, Star Trek, Star Wars, Supernatural, To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee, Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Courtroom Drama, F/M, I had a lot of fun writing this thing, I love Legally Blonde so I just HAD to do this, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of mutilation, Supernatural universe alterations, There are a LOT of references to other works, relationship drama, this is a long work, which is why I have listed so many fandoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-07 22:23:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 31,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4280157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester has really screwed up. First, he didn't stand up to his dad after his father threw Dean's brother Sammy out of the house when he got accepted to Stanford University with a scholarship. Then, he didn't immediately attempt to become his own man and so stayed at work in his dad's car garage until the age of 22, when he FINALLY grew a pair and upped and left. Now he's in college at Cal Tech and loving it--football and booze and frat parties and his great girlfriend, Cassie Robinson. And now he's screwed up yet aGAIN by popping the question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ~~~Lights Come Up; Montage~~~

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank Legally Blonde and Reese Witherspoon for taking societal conventions that objectify women (or anyone, really) and throwing them out the window, chopping them into bits, setting fire to those bits, and mixing the ash with the most disgusting garbage available. No seriously, Legally Blonde is a wonderfully empowering movie for any girl who has ever thought that physical beauty was all anyone would see in her. I would also like to thank my best buddy Chris Avery for introducing me to Supernatural AND tumblr in the space of just a few months—so I had to watch 3.5 seasons in 4 months’ time my sophomore year of college and react on my blog—{I hate you so much for that…jk} And I acknowledge you, dear reader, whoever you may be. I thank you for checking out this crazy story of mine, which started as just a synopsis and then morphed and flowered into something the length of a novella. Sorry for how long it is, but I do hope you’ll enjoy it. Lastly, I’ve gotta follow Western literary tradition and thank the Muses, because without them I wouldn’t be writing.
> 
> Disclaimer: I feel as though I should clarify before the beginning of this piece that I have come across minimal definitive evidence in the show Supernatural that suggests that Dean possesses any romantic feelings for Castiel (except for the episode in Season 8 titled "A Little Slice of Kevin" where the sexual tension between the two of them is so palpable ;-P). I DO think Cas has romantic feelings for Dean, however, and if the two of them could move beyond all of their issues, they would make a good couple. Thus I’ve concentrated on only the positive aspects of their relationship with—and to—one another, such as it is. I highly doubt that the writers of the show will make good on Cas’ and Dean’s deeper feelings, whatever those might be; and dammit, I just really want them to be happy!!!
> 
> One note before the beginning: L’Angelo, Castiel’s surname in this story, means “the angel” in Italian. You may choose to believe that is what he is, or not—that is up to you, dear reader. I purposely left that fact open-ended because, frankly, in the world of my story it could work either way.

Dean Winchester is a 26-year-old Sigma Nu frat boy at Cal Tech (he started college late at the age of 23 after working for a few years as a mechanic in his father’s car garage) who loves nothing better than holding a big blowout keg party with his best buddies, Victor and Benny, and his other good friend Charlie (who’s in Key Club, D&D club, and the Honors Society yet she somehow still manages to be cool). Everyone is super excited for him because it seems like tonight is the night he pops the question—oh my God oh my God oh my God you guys—but then it all goes wrong when his super-smart driven independent girlfriend Cassie jumps the gun and tells him that she’s applied to law school at Harvard University and…

“I don’t want to be in a serious relationship right now; besides that, Dean, I don’t think you have the temperament to handle one.” 

Oh, really? So Dean sets out to prove her wrong, shocking everyone (including himself) when he manages to pass the LSATs with a 179 and gets accepted to the big dance—oh wait that’s baseball. Victor and Benny cheer him on even though they never thought he could or would want to do something like this—their wisecracking movie-quoting buddy a lawyer? Never in a million years; and Charlie helps him out with all of his letters of recommendation and course schedule and tells him he’s gonna knock it outta the park—shit that’s baseball AGAIN…but anyway “This is the perfect way to prove your seriousness to Cassie! You’d better call me every week or every day.” 

He goes to Harvard Law School having neglected to inform the most important person of his decision—his younger brother Sam, who’s been enrolled since the start of the summer and is super excited about it—especially after meeting this really neat girl at orientation and hitting it off. Her name is Cassie Robinson; and yes, it’s DEAN'S Cassie. The three of them see each other in the hallway and Dean gets the impression that his little brother is after his girl (never mind the fact that Sammy has been awkward around girls that he has a crush on since day one and there is no sign of said awkwardness around Cassie), but she does nothing to refute Dean’s assumption, and that causes a bit of a stir.


	2. ~Scene 1~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has a fiery run-in with Sam and Cassie in a Harvard hallway before arriving late to class. After leaving said class, he receives some friendly advice.

“You’re with her behind my back?! My own brother!”

“Oh yeah? What about you, Dean?! I never even knew you wanted to go to law school! You passed the LSATs???”

“What, like it’s hard?” Dean scoffs.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s none of your business what I do with my life! You ran out on me and Dad as soon as you could, so excuse me for not expecting you to have an interest in my personal affairs! Or my girlfriend!”

“EX-girlfriend, Dean,” Cassie reminds him. “I told you I needed some space.” He sneers at her to cover up his hurt.

“Not space away from Sammy, obviously. Well good luck with that, Cassie. He’s a lot more serious than me, but I promise he’s also a lot less fun. He’s had a stick rammed up his ass since he turned sixteen.” Dean turns on his heel and slams open the door, late, into his first class, earning a sharp reprimand from the professor. He gets another a few minutes later when she asks the class a question about the chapter of the textbook they should be reading and he says he doesn’t have one.

“Well, Mr. Winchester, since you are tardy AND unprepared for this lecture, I assume that you don’t want to be here. Leave, please.” Dean stares at her dumbly for a moment and gathers up his papers and schedule and books before going out to a bench under a tree on the quad and dropping them all on the ground, his face dark as a thundercloud. 

“Need any help?” a deep, quiet, gravelly voice asks as Dean gets down on his knees to rearrange his stuff and starts cursing under his breath. He looks up toward the speaker, meaning to make a sharp retort along the lines of why don’t you just fuck off, but is greeted by a pair of cerulean blue eyes that are crinkled at the corners in a kind smile and the biting reply he’d planned goes right out of his brain.

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean mutters as the tall blue-eyed young man stoops to gather some of his papers for him. He is wearing a dark suit underneath his tan trench coat and carries a binder and briefcase. A professor? He seems too close to Dean’s own age for that to be the case…

“Tough first day for you too?” The man asks as he deftly puts Dean’s papers in order. Dean shrugs and laughs mirthlessly as he glances down gloomily at his schedule.

“You could say that.” 

“It IS pretty nerve-wracking. I remember my first day as a student, but now that I am a teaching assistant I expected I would no longer get the jitters.” He sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair. “I was wrong.” Not a full professor then. Good, Dean’s had enough of law school teachers already.

“Professor Harvelle threw me out of her class because I was a SECOND late, couldn’t answer ONE question, AND didn’t have my textbook. Law textbooks aren’t the easiest things to buy online when you registered at the last minute!” Dean spits out just to tell someone, not caring if he’s whining. The other man nods in understanding.

“Ah, yes, I had her my first year too. She demanded so much from me—it was as if she was kicking me in the most uncomfortable places in order to see if I would fall down. You must not give in; stand straighter and be sure to know your stuff. Then she cannot bust your balls and will come to respect you instead. You will be all right, I promise.”

Dean can’t bring himself to smile or continue the conversation even though this guy is being so nice. He’s too miserable. Putting his freckled face in his hands he moans

“This is a disaster. I wish I hadn’t come here.”

“Oh, do not say that. The first day is always the hardest. I am sure tomorrow will be better. Besides, if you had not come to Harvard, I would not have met you. Now you have someone in your corner. If you ever need to talk, I am Professor Crowley’s teaching assistant. My name is Castiel.” He holds out his hand and after a second Dean firmly shakes it.

“I’m Dean Winchester. Since you’re almost a teacher, does that mean I have to call you Mr. Castiel? That’d be weird since we’re about the same age.” The TA cocks his head to one side and those crinkly crow’s feet appear at the corners of his eyes again as he squints at Dean.

“Yes, it would be peculiar for me as well. If you did so I would have to call you Mr. Winchester.” Dean shudders.

“No, that makes me sound too much like my father, and I’m DEFINITELY not my old man.” The way he says this makes the TA wonder if he will get to know this man well enough to ask him to elaborate on it someday. “The name Castiel sounds super formal as well, though. How about—d’you mind if I call you Cas?” The other man blinks in surprise and appears rather touched.

“No Dean, I do not mind at all. That is actually the first time I have ever been given a nickname. Thank you very much.” Dean looks startled now.

“Seriously? Your friends never made up a name for you when you were younger? Well then you’ve got some catching up to do, Cas. Now I’ve gotta stay here to break in your nickname.” He smiles now, thinking of Benny and Vic and all the names they have for each other. And he’s come up with one for Cas now too. Meeting this guy has made his day brighter. He says that much with his grateful green eyes, and even though he doesn’t articulate the words, Castiel understands.

“I am glad that nicknaming me has given you the incentive to stay in law school, Dean.” Castiel says with a quirked eyebrow and a wry twist to his mouth that makes Dean laugh in spite of himself. “I hope that you will find other reasons to stay as well. Good luck in class and I shall see you around.” The TA rises and collects his things before waving good-bye and setting off at a trot, with his trench coat billowing behind him, to Professor Crowley’s class—which, Dean realizes, after taking another look at his course schedule—he has the next morning. Huh. He’ll get to see Cas as a TA in action! That will give him a reason not to arrive late or leave early from another class.


	3. ~Scene 2~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his first full day of classes, Dean decides he needs to relax. He does so in a rather unconventional way.

Dean feels a little better since he has no more classes for the rest of the day, but his back is nevertheless in knots from tension because of all the work he has to do, both for the class he evacuated that day and for his class tomorrow. He feels waaay out of his element and is driving aimlessly down Main Street in his beloved Baby—a 1967 Chevy Impala—just to unscramble his head, when he glances to the left and spots BOBBY SINGER’S HAIR CARE AND SPA. Tickled pink to see the gruff balding bearded man solemnly brushing an old lady’s hair just inside the window, Dean parks Baby and decides to go in. Hell, maybe they do massages. He sure could use one.

“Be with you in a sec,” a young, pretty blonde girl calls out. She rings someone up behind the counter and then comes over to Dean. She is wearing washed-out jeans and a pretty top with a nametag, but her face isn’t prissy. She looks like she could shoot a bulls-eye with a rifle or beat you at pool or poker; whichever game you wanted to play. Dean clears his throat and realizes that he’s staring her down.

“Uh, I’m Dean Winchester. Just got in today and I’m looking for a way to relax.”

“Well, you came to the right place. I’m Jo Harvelle. Are you here for hair, a facial, or a massage?” she sighs and snaps her fingers in front of Dean’s nose when he doesn’t respond immediately. “C’mon, hotshot, I don’t have all day. If you don’t know what you want here then you should leave.”

“I’ll have a massage. Thanks.” Dean says quickly and averts his eyes. He thinks he catches Jo smirk at him but isn’t quite sure. Jo Harvelle. Same last name as his bitchy Law 101 teacher. He’s willing to bet his good leather jacket that they’re related, and that becomes even clearer when she reaches underneath the counter for a ‘massage outfit’ so none of the soothing coconut oil gets on his clothes and says first thing,

“So, it’s your first day in town, Dean Winchester. Are you up visiting someone at the law school?”

“Uh, no, actually I’m a student there.” Jo laughs outright, a bright bubbly sound that nearly makes him smile, even though her laugh is at his expense. He decides to take it in stride. “What?” he says, teasingly stripping off his coat. “Don’t I look like the perfect law student?” Dean flexes his arms and winks. “Your Honor, I’d like to cross-examine the witness,” he nods deferentially but then looks up and grins in a flirty manner, sending Jo into another fit of laughter. She doubles over, stands up, and hands him the gown before waving a hand in front of her face.

“Ooh no stop—please. Oh my God, the only type of lawyer you could possibly be is one for models.” She blushes and turns away. “Now why don’t you follow me back here so you can change your clothes for—”

“Oh I don’t need to go to the back for that,” Dean says, and to Jo’s horror he drops his pants and starts hoisting his gray t-shirt over his head when a voice is heard yelling,

“BOY!!! Put your shirt back on RIGHT NOW there are RULES ABOUT PUBLIC DECENCY AROUND HERE YOU KNOW!” Dean flinches and peeks through his collar to see the frowning bearded face of Bobby Singer now inches from his own. Dean gulps. He’d thought it was part of the fun, and plus it wouldn’t take him very long to change, but now he’s standing here in white boxer briefs staring at a hairdresser who looks like he could throw Dean over his shoulder like a carpetbag and still have room to carry something else. Added to this humiliation, it is just now that the store’s bell rings.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Singer. I trust all is—well?” hems a woman’s voice, and suddenly Bobby’s meaty hand swipes Dean behind his back and Dean can see who the voice belongs to. His stomach sinks. It’s a cop. A lady cop. Bobby must’ve called her when he saw Dean flirting with Jo. A sexual harassment or public indecency charge is on its way, Dean thinks gloomily. Great job, dumbass. You’ve only been in law school ONE DAY! But then he realizes as the store owner mumbles something uncomfortably that the officer had asked if everything was fine. If she’d known about Dean she wouldn’t be asking that, she’d already be taking him in. This relaxes the young man enough so that he clearly hears,

“That was quite a show I got when I walked in. Are you hiring male strippers now, Bobby?”

“Aw no, Jody, how could you even say that? This is a respectable establishment y’know!” Bobby grumbles, his face getting bright red under his beard. And then—no shit, Dean wouldn’t make this up—the officer giggles.

“Of course, Bobby, how right you are. All quiet?” he gives a jerky nod. “Well then I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good evening, Mr. Singer. You too, Jo.” She turns around and is out the door before Bobby mutters,

“’Evening Miss- Officer Mills.” Then he turns back to Dean, his face dark with anger again. Then he transfers the dark look over to Jo. “I’m surprised at you, Jo Harvelle—entertainin’ the riffraff.”

“It’s not Jo’s fault,” Dean breaks in quickly. He may not like her mother’s class but Jo is a nice kid. He doesn’t want to get her in hot water with her boss. He knows all too well what that’s like. Especially if the boss is your father and he has very specific plans for your future that start a feud when you tell him what it is that you actually want…ahem. Best to get back to the present. “I was just teasing her. She said I could be a lawyer for models so I was continuing the joke. It was in poor taste I now know,” he adds as Bobby looks like he’s going to slug him, “But you didn’t look bad in front of that policewoman, and that’s all you care about, right?” Bobby’s face freezes and Jo holds her breath. No one else has ever talked to her boss like that. She readies herself to break up a fight. This would be a good one too—Dean looks like the kind of guy who can hold his own. But Bobby just squints intently at the younger man who has now (finally!) put his massage outfit on.

“Well I’ll be damned. What’s your name, son?”

“Dean. Dean Winchester.” Bobby sizes him up for a second before reaching out to shake his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Dean. I heard you say you were new in town?” Dean feels himself relax infinitesimally.

“Yes sir. Just started law school today.” Bobby raises his eyebrows and shakes his head.

“Woof. I don’t envy you, kid. Those Harvard profs are tough. They’ll chew you up and spit you out…especially your mom, right Jo?” Jo nods with a smile. Leading Dean over to a low massage table, Bobby motions for him to lie face-down. “I hope you’re ready.” Dean flops down with a groan.

“I hope I am too; but after today, I don’t know.”


	4. ~Scene 3~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and his new acquaintances go somewhere for dinner.
> 
> This is a long one. Hold on to your hats...

Dean feels reinvigorated after a relaxing massage from Jo and a talk with Bobby—after his rather lackluster first impression, the two men still manage to hit it off. Both like booze, fast cars, and good music, though Jo just rolls her eyes and mutters something about REO Speedwagon as they blather on. Though there’s obviously a softer side to Bobby too—why else would he run a spa/hair salon? 

“I like to help people look their best. I have a feeling you know something about that, right, kid?” Dean smiles, a tad uncomfortably. It’s true he doesn’t leave the house without every golden brown hair in its proper place and the collar of his leather jacket cocked just so, but for him it’s more of a way to ooze confidence (even though he actually feels incredibly insecure a lot of the time). It isn’t just girls like Jo who melt like butter around him. Older women have too, and even a few men. Oh sure, he loves a hot shower with the right water pressure, I mean who doesn’t? But he’s also the kind of guy who thinks nothing of getting down and dirty underneath the frame of his Impala. So yeah, there’s a time and a place for looking good; and with that in mind, he respects what Bobby has here.

After talking to Jo and Bobby for a while, Dean’s stomach grumbles and Jo starts to laugh.

“You hungry, big boy? You should have dinner at The Roadhouse. It’s got great burgers. You’ll like the bartender too. C’mon, Bobby, let’s close early! Please?” Bobby looks at her pleading eyes and snorts.

“You just want an excuse to hustle people at pool.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault this town is always full of tourists who don’t know their ass from their elbow.” Dean laughs and quickly puts his clothes back on—in the designated area this time. Then the three of them head over to The Roadhouse, which has an old-fashioned atmosphere and dark wood paneled walls. There are people sitting at tables and nursing beers, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone working behind the bar. At least not until Jo goes over and smacks the counter and a lump that looked like a giant canvas bag groans and falls to the floor with a bang. “Hey Ash, get your lazy butt up here! We’ve got ourselves a new customer.”

“Oh really, Jo? Why don’t you put on an apron and help me out back here, huh? Your mom’s gonna have my head if—” then he notices Dean. “Oh. There really is a new customer. Howdy, I’m Ash, Dr. Badass himself! Hey there Bobby. What can I get you fellas?”

“Besides a haircut?” Dean mutters, because Ash is sporting a pretty natty mullet.

“Nah, business in the front, party in the back is the only way to do things, baby!” Dean had meant his query snidely, but hearing Ash’s response makes him smile.

“I’ll have my usual, Ashton,” Bobby grunts. Ash widens his eyes and shakes his head at the older man, party hair swishing.

“Ah-ah, don’t be starting in on me with that full name crap today. What’s your name, newbie?” he asks while deftly filling a growler for Bobby.

“Dean Winchester and I’ll take a Guinness.” They shake hands and Ash nods approvingly at his choice before handing the nearly overflowing beer to Bobby.

“Dark beers are good this time of year. So Dean, what brings you here? Tourist season?” Dean lowers his eyebrows and widens his eyes, offended, causing Jo to snort with laughter.

“Come on Ash, do you really think he looks as clueless as these marks?” she jerks her head at the group of guys clustered at the pool table. “Speaking of which, I’d better hustle…” She sashays over to them as Bobby gulps down some beer before calling after her,

“You’d better hope Officer Mills doesn’t stop in here.”

“Nah, what you talkin’ bout, Bobby? She doesn’t ‘check’ anywhere except your spa on a regular basis.” Ash says, clicking his tongue and washing out a dirty glass with a large dishrag. Bobby almost spits his booze all over the bar and Dean takes a sip of his own beer. Things are beginning to look interesting.

“Well, whaddaya know,” he mutters as Bobby sputters that isn’t true, he doesn’t know where Ash gets off saying things like that—Jody’s beat is up and down the entire street. “It’s okay, Bobby. Since your face is all red and your tongue is tied I’ll just order myself some dinner. I’ll take the biggest burger you’ve got, Dr. Badass,” Dean interjects. Ash grins widely.

“I like this man! He calls me by the RIGHT name!” he says this with a significant look at the hairdresser, who grunts in response. “Your dinner will be out in a minute. Jo!” he yells across the bar. “Now I really do need your help, sister!” Jo comes over with a sour look on her face.

“Damn, Ash, I was about to get all that man was worth, the misogynistic prick,” she mutters darkly. “Plus, Mom won’t up my salary.”

“Well, that’s tough bananas. You’ll have to take it up with her, sweet cheeks.” He makes a funny face at Jo. She punches him on the shoulder and grabs an apron from a hook behind the bar, tying it around her waist with a flourish before flouncing over to take someone’s order. 

“Yes, Ellen Harvelle owns this place too,” Bobby says as Dean stares in shock after Jo. “She doesn’t have time for it much anymore, since her husband passed. He was the one who really ran it. But you don’t talk selling to Ellen.” Bobby chuckles. “She found Ash looking for work and was able to stay afloat by making him the bartender; Jo lends a hand whenever she can chance it. You might could get a job too, if law classes don’t eat you alive.” Bobby takes a swig of his beer and now it is Dean’s turn to choke on his own. “Just think about it. Ellen’s a hard woman, but she’s fair and honest.”

“Like Jo?” Dean raises an eyebrow as he watches Jo lean over a table and spill a glass of water into a man’s lap after the guy mutters something disagreeable into her ear. He chuckles as the man’s date starts to scream and Jo just smiles, keeping completely calm, and briskly wipes the table down with a napkin. Bobby looks over at her and a smile crinkles his eyes.

“Maybe not quite like Jo,” he rumbles agreeably. “She’s a good kid, though.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Dean watches the girl over the top of his glass, and she catches his eye and blushes before bringing him a refill of beer. He and Bobby have now left the bar and are seated at a side table where there is a good view of the door. Therefore Dean is the first to spot the large dark-suited man with a scruffy beard who comes inside, holding the door open for—Castiel, the teaching assistant. The dapper man must be Professor Crowley, then, and Dean quickly turns away, unsure if it’s proper to acquaint oneself with a law professor in a bar. Bobby notices his flustered glance and raises an eyebrow.

“Classmate of yours, Dean? Or is that one of your professors?” Dean doesn’t know how to classify this because Castiel isn’t a professor; he’s the guy who saved Dean’s ass by helping him out.... Dean clears his throat noisily as Jo brings over a basket of fries to “help tide them over”. He is saved from replying to Bobby by stuffing a handful of fries in his mouth, but then Castiel spots him and (of course!) has to come over.

“Dean?” he asks, his blue eyes sparkling with delight to see the disgruntled law student of earlier that afternoon looking relatively relaxed now. “It is you, isn’t it? Are you having a better day?” Dean swallows his fries and wipes his palm on a napkin before rising to shake hands with the dark-headed man.

“Hey, Cas. Yeah, it’s me, and I’m doing better, mostly thanks to Bobby here.” He waves at the bearded man who is watching the two of them with an inscrutable expression. “He and Jo Harvelle perform a mean massage in their spa.” Castiel laughs in delight at Dean’s easy praise and Bobby’s obvious pride as well as his embarrassment. 

“Well, I am glad to hear that. I may have to pop in for a visit sometime.” The man who entered with Castiel has just appeared at his elbow and makes a small noise in the back of his throat. “Oh! Forgive my lack of manners—Dean and Bobby, this is Professor Crowley. He teaches courtroom etiquette and I am his assistant teacher and researcher. Sir, this is Dean Winchester, one of your students.” Crowley sniffs and looks Dean over with cool, dark, penetrating, calculating eyes.

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Winchester,” the professor purrs in a deep refined British accent. “I look forward to seeing you in class.” The way he says this sends a chill through Dean’s chest, though he has no idea why. This man is simply being charming and friendly.

“Likewise, and I look forward to learning from you. Sir.” He adds quickly. Maybe that’s it, the awareness that this man has a rigid set of rules and has to be called ‘sir’ just like Dean’s father. He is spared more scrutiny when the professor shakes hands with Bobby and speaks of his facials being “just divine”. This gives Dean another chance to talk to Cas, whose friendly if slightly stiff demeanor has not changed since the afternoon. “Uh, Cas, I realize I never really thanked you for helping me today. Organizing my stuff for me and…yeah, asking if I was all right. Just—that was nice of you, man. I appreciate it.” Dean clears his throat and gives the other man’s shoulder a light friendly smack without thinking about it before his eyes widen and he flinches, his fist going in front of his mouth in horror. “Shit, you’re a teacher’s assistant, and I just hit you!” 

Laughing, Castiel shakes his head fondly at this young man’s insecurity. “I don’t mind, Dean. In the classroom we can keep it professional, but I would like you to consider me a friend.” His face is earnest yet also pensive, making Dean nod fervently before once more grasping his shoulder in affirmation. 

“Yeah, of course, Cas. I mean, I already gave you a nickname so we’re off to a good start! Hey, d’you wanna pull up a chair like Crowley’s already doing?”

Apparently the merits of a facial are both important and endless, as Crowley has now scooted a chair over next to Bobby’s and is talking animatedly. Dean thinks he spies a smirk under the gruff spa owner’s beard, but he doesn’t know the man very well yet, so he can’t be sure. Castiel nods and scoops up a chair, sitting down and nearly bashing Dean’s knee with his own. He swiftly apologizes, and Jo comes over to welcome the newcomers and ask what they want. Crowley orders a Scotch with soda, and Castiel nods at Dean’s drink.

“I’ll have what he’s having.” Jo’s mouth curves up in a smirk that Dean is sure he sees this time.

“All right, Scotch and Guinness coming right up.” She prances off with her bouncing blonde hair, swaying to the Ario Speedwagon song that has just come over the speakers—most likely for Dean’s benefit. “Oh, and your burger is almost done, Dean!” she calls over her shoulder.

“Good! Tell Dr. Badass to get a move on, I’m starving!” he yells back. “And you’re playing REO Speedwagon? REALLY??” Castiel watches as Jo sticks her tongue out at Dean and he smirks back. It is great that this young man can become so close to, cheery, and jokey with these people in so short a time. Dean Winchester will be all right here, Castiel decides. He’ll just have to find out what bothered Dean so much this morning in order to ensure that it doesn’t happen again. Clearing his throat and touching the other’s arm, Castiel decides to ask.

“Dean,” he intones quietly. Dean swivels around to look at him, those bright candy-apple green eyes steady and open. Cas does not want to be the reason that this charming man shuts down, a curtain of suspicion darkening the green eyes, and so he chickens out. “Um, what are your other classes like?”

“Well, this afternoon I went out to check on internships because apparently I’ve only got Professor Harvelle and Professor Crowley this semester. I guess I’ve gotta find an individual interest to research and learn about…God, I didn’t think of that when I came here after Cassie—” Dean tries to shut himself up, but too late; he shakes his head and closes his eyes, air hissing between his teeth. “Shit. Shit shit shit I did not mean to say that.”

“What is it, Dean?” the other man asks, leaning forward with eyes full of concern. 

“You don’t wanna hear this; you don’t want to know my sob story, Cas.” Dean says vehemently. “I don’t even want to think about it, it’s just too pathetic and stupid to contemplate.” Castiel looks at him compassionately because he may have only known this man for a day, but he sees Dean as someone who needs a friend, a human being who just deserves to have someone to talk to. Castiel’s empathy level has always been sky-high, and Dean senses this now. “Damn. Well, I guess I can tell you the gist of it.” He takes a large swig of beer and laces his fingers together in a mock-serious gesture that serves only to make Castiel think that there is some true seriousness underneath. “I came to law school to follow my girlfriend. Happy?” He smacks his fist onto the table. “I signed up for classes and ordered my books from Amazon and got a 179 on the fucking entrance exam just so I could prove to her that I’m capable of being serious about something and therefore show her I’m serious about our relationship. Because apparently popping the question isn’t SERIOUS enough for her—she wants to be independent, think things out, but instead I come here and see her getting all cozy with my bABY BROTHER of all people for God’s sake, who was enrolled here on purpose already from Stanford because he actually wants to make a career out of his law degree. We had it out in the hallway before my class with Professor Harvelle and that was the reason I was late. Whaddaya think of me now? Sure you want to be friends with a guy who’s got so many personal problems?”

“Oh, my, Dean, that’s—” Castiel is saved from replying immediately when Jo brings Dean his food and puts a growler of dark beer next to Castiel before handing a scotch across the table to Crowley. “You got a 179 on the entrance exam and you weren’t even considering this course as anything other than an outlet for pursuing a woman?!” Dean winces at these words. “I’m sorry. I did not mean that derogatorily.”

“No, it’s cool; I understand that it looks and sounds a little weird and possibly creepy. But we KNOW each other, me and Cassie. We’ve been going out for nearly two years now, which is a lifetime for me. And seriously, are you only concerned about the score I got on my entrance exam???” Castiel takes a swig of beer and shrugs as Dean commences chuckling and taking an enormous bite of hamburger. “Awwight we’ you’re a stran’ bird, Cas,” he says with his mouth full.

“It is just rather impressive, that is all. And about your girlfriend, are you sure that your brother is making an effort to pursue her? Doesn’t he know that you are together?”

“WERE together according to her now, and no, he doesn’t.” Dean sighs through his nose. “It’s been hard for us to keep up with each other since he basically flew out the front door as soon as he graduated high school. Our home life wasn’t the greatest. It wasn’t terrible either,” he rushes to explain, lest this TA get the wrong impression of his family, “but Sam and my father had very strong mostly negative opinions of one another and I guess I took after Sammy a little with my eventual decision to go to college and give up the family business.” Castiel nods in response to this, his eyes never leaving Dean’s face. With any other person, the continuous eye contact would make Dean uncomfortable, but he figures that Cas is just an extremely active listener. He is certain of this when Castiel takes a deep breath and seems to weigh his words carefully before replying.

“Did he expect you to get in contact with him before today?”

“Yeah, and that’s actually the first thing he said after seeing me. He couldn’t believe I hadn’t told him—well excuse me for thinking the kid wanted me out of his life since he went to Stanford with a scholarship against our father’s wishes and cut off all contact with us! I s’ppose since I didn’t make any obvious efforts to explain Sam’s decision to Dad…” Dean chews on his hamburger in a ruminating manner “…he figured I agreed with our father and didn’t want to speak to him anymore either. Which is bullshit. I love that kid—practically RAISED him since Dad didn’t know how to do much in the way of parenting, not after Mom died…” he trails off and wipes his face with a napkin before clearing his throat and continuing, “uh anyway, I guess I didn’t explain enough to Sammy or he just doesn’t know or care enough about me to realize that it broke my heart when he left.” Dean smiles at Cas with eyes like broken glass. “He bruised Dad’s pride, because Dad always thought he could keep us both dutiful and obedient forever, but Sammy broke my heart. And now he’s doing it again with Cassie. Twice the pain. I’m gonna end up like the Grinch soon—my heart will be two sizes too small.” He laughs hollowly. Castiel listens to Dean explain all of this and then, an automatic impulse, he reaches over to grasp the other’s hand, which is lying on the table next to his drink. Dean jumps in surprise as the TA’s thin, strong fingers wrap around his in a reassuring squeeze. He cannot look into this man’s kind eyes, so he just swallows hard and brings his other hand up to take one more bite of his burger. But he doesn’t pull away from Castiel’s grip. The man’s rough voice has become impossibly soft and tremulous, forcing Castiel to lean closer to hear it. Their joined hands slip off of the surface of the table as Dean eats. 

“Have you tried telling your brother any of this?” Cas asks. Dean swallows his gargantuan bite and laughs in a hard way.

“Are you kidding? He won’t listen to me; kid’s as bullheaded as they come. Besides, normally I’m not so good with words.” He raises his face up to look at Cas. “I don’t know what it is about you that has me spilling my guts.” Castiel smiles and quickly and gently wipes a bit of mustard off the edge of Dean’s mouth with his thumb. He wants to let his hand linger there, tracing the full lips of this troubled soul until he can help him find his way out of the dark and into the light. However, that would probably not be an acceptable course of action since he just met Dean toDAY…

“You may wish to stop spilling; I do not want to have to replace my shoes.” Dean’s brow furrows before he catches the other man’s eyebrow arch. A joke! Cas made a joke about Dean spilling his guts—but he doesn’t want to witness actual vomit. Ha!

“Yeah, and plus I wouldn’t want to give Jo a huge mess to clean up. Her mother already hates me; I don’t need to encourage the wrath of the entire Harvelle family.” He glances over at Jo and extricates his hand from Castiel’s just in time to see the same man from before, the one that she spilled her drink on, not taking the hint that she wants to be left alone. His date must be in the bathroom, because the man has now leaned towards Jo, his meaty hand encircling her upper arm. Dean stands up quickly. He runs through several scenarios in his mind, stopping at the one where someone is least likely to get his face smashed in—even though that would feel immensely satisfying, Dean knows he has to at least PRETEND to be civilized. He strides quickly over to Jo and places a hand on her shoulder and a kiss on her cheek. “Hey, babe. You doin’ all right?” Jo relaxes as she looks up at him and the other man quickly lets go of her arm. Dean gives her a miniscule wink.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. This guy just wanted to give me his number, but I’m clearly already IN a relationship.” She puts the just-released arm around Dean and pulls him in for a big showy kiss on the lips. He kisses her back, trying hard not to smile. “And a damn good one,” she mutters. When he and Jo break apart, Dean looks into the older man’s slightly bloodshot eyes.

“Hey, buddy, isn’t THAT your date?” he asks pointedly as the woman with bleached-blonde hair and a very tight scarlet minidress skirts a table and heads back toward them, having just powdered her nose. “Why not keep the wandering hands to a minimum, huh?” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head reprovingly before drawing Jo with him back toward the bar. “So, baby, when do you get off work?” Playing along for a minute longer, Jo leans into his arm.

“Not until after ten, you know that!” 

“All right, I guess I’ll just have to wait for you, then. Patiently.” Dean shoots a look back over his shoulder at the man, who now seems to be in a big hurry to leave. He raises his voice for the creep’s benefit. “Then I can drive you home.” Jo gives his arm a grateful squeeze as the man leaves at last, his date leading the way poutily. “You have any more problems,” Dean mutters to the young waitress, “I’ll be sittin’ over here talking to Cas.”

“Thanks, Dean. He was being a real asshole.” She cuts her eyes after the big man balefully. “And he didn’t even leave me a good tip! Especially since he kept eyeing me and making lewd remarks whenever he wasn’t feeling up his girlfriend.” 

“Seriously, Jo, I will drive you home. Guys like that—who don’t take your ‘no’ for what it’s worth? They can be dangerous. So say the majority of rape cases.” Jo shudders slightly and looks up at him with a sardonic tilt to her brow.

“I bet you’re a real hoot at parties! Somehow I didn’t figure you knew much about that tru-crime stuff. Didn’t think you were that kind of lawyer. Plus, I can take care of myself, you know.” She makes a fist and reaches across the bar to grab some glasses from Ash before taking a breath and changing the subject. “So you’re sitting with CAS, huh?” Something about the way she says the TA’s name makes Dean fidget, and Jo is sporting that smirk again. Seeing it makes him decide to mouth off.

“Yeah, I am. Is that a crime?”

“Whoa, hang on there, Winchester. I’m just teasing! It’s just that guy’s been in here a few times before and I’ve never heard him speak more than a single word. He’s practically making hell freeze over and pigs fly by talking to you.” Dean is astounded—he figured Castiel was a little reserved, but since the other man had been the one to initiate their first conversation, he figured he was also pretty sociable. Looking over the crown of Jo’s head, Dean sees Castiel’s eyes rise to his and he gives a little wave. “He’s practically a new man.” Jo says.

“What d’you know about him?”

“Not much; like I said, he keeps to himself. Really smart, and either crazy or masochistic, to want to be Crowley’s teaching assistant.” She lowers her voice and vigorously swabs a table. “My mom tells me James Fergus Crowley’s a real piece of work. The last TA he hired ran outta town muttering some crazy crap about making demon deals for her insane boss. Insane is right; she got checked into a mental hospital for a few weeks. Just for observation, but it was after she’d worked with Professor Crowley.” Dean is horrorstruck.

“Where is she now? Is she all right?” Jo shrugs.

“The nuthouse she was in is upstate, so I figure she went in and did her time before going back home, wherever that is. All I know is that man over there has his own way of doing things, and if you don’t work his way then you’re up shit creek and all the paddles are fifty miles away. So you might wanna give your friend fair warning.” She pats him on the arm and smiles. “Go sit down; I’ll bring you some apple pie on the house.” She looks down, almost bashful. “You know, since you helped get me out of that scrape.”

“I was glad to do it,” Dean said, slightly abstracted with his mind still on Castiel’s work position. “But won’t your mom take it out of your paycheck?”

“Not unless I start giving free pie to ALL the customers, she won’t.” Jo smacks him lightly on the butt. “Seriously, go and sit down! Your new buddy will be wondering what I’m saying to you.”

“Oh just telling a tale, Shaharazad. You’ve still got a thousand more nights.” Dean gives Jo a wink that makes her stomach flutter before he smiles a heart-rending smile and strolls back over to his seat next to Castiel, who beams at him in his own turn.

“I noted what you did there, Dean. I am extremely impressed.”

“Thanks, Cas. But it was no big deal,” Dean swipes his hand across his mouth and then rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed by the other man’s praise and the warmth with which he focuses his bright blue eyes on Dean’s frame as he sits down once more.

“It was a ‘big deal’ to Jo Harvelle, Dean. And it tells me something about you.”

“Oh yeah? What does it tell ya?”

“That you are a good man as well as an observant one. You notice things that occur around you that others may not take note of, you remember those things, and you take action. That is one mark of a good investigative lawyer.” 

Dean glows with pride at Castiel’s words and decides to share his pie with the TA when it comes: crisp warm apple slices sprinkled with cinnamon in the lightest flaky crust, with three scoops of vanilla ice cream heaped on the side. Jo has obviously anticipated his idea because she brings two spoons. Crowley makes his farewells, as he has to get the class seating chart ready for tomorrow morning he says, and skips out just in time to avoid the check (which has several scotch and sodas on it, Dean notices). Since it doesn’t look like the professor is too worried about Cas, Dean offers to drive the teaching assistant home since he is taking Jo home as well. 

Bobby bows out too after paying his part of the check, saying that he’s got to mix some special hair color for Ms. Moseley (who comes in every Tuesday at 8am sharp before going to her job at the courthouse). He invites Dean to stop by the spa any time he needs to relax or talk to someone. Dean nods gratefully and shakes the middle-aged man’s hand. When he is about to pay for his own dinner, Castiel snatches the check away. “It is only proper for me to pay,” he says when Dean protests, “since Crowley left without covering his portion and as such gave law professors a bad name; plus it is a welcome gift from me to buy you your first dinner here.” 

“Thanks, Cas. As long as you let me return the favor next time.” Dean says. Jo raises an eyebrow at Dean as she takes the check from the other man. “We’re going to wait here for you, Jo. I said I’d drive you home, remember?” He and Castiel end up sitting at the bar, making small talk with Ash—who actually graduated magna cum laude from MIT a few years ago with a perfect working application for String Theory (that unfortunately has no practical use, which is why he now bartends)—as Jo finishes helping the rest of the customers and cleaning off all of the tables. 

Dean also learns a little bit about Castiel, the youngest of seven siblings from a rough part of town; whose Father was a bit on the lousy side; he was hard to please and distant. This was something that Dean could relate to with his own dad, even though John Winchester hadn’t been physically distant at all, not until Dean decided to go off to college—then he couldn’t wait to get him packing. Well, not even that, he merely stopped talking to Dean and began treating him like he wasn’t even in the same house anymore and that made Dean eager not to be. His father was always smothering with his disciplined ways, but distant in his emotions. Dean tells Cas some of this. He has no idea why, but the steady gaze of those nice blue eyes—yes, he has noticed that they are nice and bright, sue him—somehow manages to get him talking more in-depth about personal things than he is used to. Before he knows it, Ash is closing up and here comes Jo with a jacket folded over her arm and a shy smile for Dean. “Ready to go, then?” He asks her, glancing at Castiel as well, who nods in nonverbal assent. They wave and salute Ash before Cas holds open the door for both Jo and Dean and they walk over to his Impala still parked across the street. Dean gets a flash of pride and joy every time he looks at or introduces someone to Baby. This pride is justified and rewarded by Jo’s admiring whistle and appreciative,

“Whooo-eee!!! That is a REALLY nice car, Dean. I’m glad I’m riding home in it tonight!” Dean grins and wonders what Cas is going to say. He is rather disappointed when the TA only articulates:

“It is perfectly adequate. The body is very sleek. I expect it gets good gas mileage?” Dean nods tightly. He can’t believe the other man isn’t gushing about Baby! To see a car that old still in mint condition should be a treat! Castiel catches some of these sentiments in Dean’s face and bows his head slightly. “I am afraid I don’t know much about cars,” he murmurs apologetically. “They serve to get me from point A to point B, and I have found that is all I care about. But if I’m going to be friends with you…”

“I am giving you a kick-ass car tutorial.” Dean decides, opening the passenger door to let Jo in. “Jesus Christ, Cas. I was about ready to leave you right there on the sidewalk for that ‘point A to B’ shit!” Jo gets the front seat as a reward for enjoying the Impala. Castiel has stretched out in the back, and he starts giving the car little compliments, to Dean’s amusement. It’s still weird for him, though, to see someone sitting beside him in the front seat who isn’t Sammy. Jo’s a girl, though, so it still sort of works. She’s even got his brother’s lousy taste in music—REO Speedwagon is not the worst. After she’s fiddled with the radio a few times, Dean pulls off on the side of the road. “Okay,” he says firmly. “That’s it. Get a mixed tape out of the glove compartment.” Jo’s eyebrow rises.

“What? Is my music taste THAT BAD?” Dean shudders.

“House rules, sweetheart. In this car, driver picks the music and shotgun shuts her cakehole.” Jo snorts.

“What about the guy in the backseat?”

“Well that would depend on if he’s no longer an idiot and now appreciates Baby for how wonderful she is.”

“I am not going to answer that,” comes Castiel’s voice from the back. “I will now defer to Dean on all things car related.” 

“Good answer,” Dean glows with pride.

“A LAWYER answer,” Jo scoffs under her breath. “Which is totally a cop-out.”

“Hey, shut your mouth girlie. Y’know I’m gonna be a lawyer as well, and if you talk any more crap about my future profession you’ll be walking home.”

“Yeah, but YOU’RE gonna be walking a runway in model court, so I think I’m safe, Dean.”


	5. ~Scene 4~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean talks of Cassie and learns a bit about Bobby.

“This fucking sucks,” Dean growls a week or so later, slamming into a metal chair in front of Bobby.

“Bad day, huh?” the spa owner says. Dean grunts noncommittally and Jo comes over to give him a neck rub before leaning down and looking at him, doe-eyed and compassionate.

“Come on, Dean, spill it.”

Blowing out a huge breath, Dean says, “Well, I came all this way—ditched Greek Week to study for the LSATs…and there were a ton of awesome keg parties then, too—slacked off on football, and quit my job at the gas station just to get into Harvard with my girlfriend. And now I’m absolutely sure she’s going out with my baby brother. They met over the summer at orientation. And it’s not like she just didn’t think to tell me! We’ve got the same last name and everything! Seriously, how many other people do you know named Winchester? Exactly,” He growls as Bobby and Jo shrug. Dean leans forward and presses his thumbs into his forehead. “Bobby, you’re obviously a guy with years of experience. How do I play this?” The spa owner shifts in his chair and grunts.

“I don’t think I’m the right person to give you advice, kid. I’m a GED-holding divorced middle-aged man whose wife left the picture long ago with early-onset dementia. I had to sell the old place and start up this spa to pay for her extended stay in around-the-clock care. Not that I mind, of course, but nowadays she doesn’t even know who I am.”

“Oh damn, that’s awful.”

“I’m dealing with it. Been doing that for years, even after the formal divorce papers.” Dean’s startled expression makes Bobby feel the need to explain: “Before she got bad, she told me she didn’t want me to feel obligated to stay with her when she knew she’d end up like this at some point. Besides—” Just then the bell over the door rings, and in struts Officer Jody Mills, who gives the place an once-over before smiling at Bobby, who has suddenly gone mute and tongue-tied.

“All quiet on the western front, Bobby?” The bearded man mumbles something unintelligible and jerks his head up and down in the robotic semblance of a nod. Dean rolls his eyes and Jo chirps,

“Yes ma’am, nothing to report. Not even another attack of male strippers, thank God.” She laughs as Dean punches her in the shoulder. The policewoman smiles and tips her hat to them. 

“Just gotta keep ‘em on the straight and narrow; am I correct, Dean?” 

“Yes ma’am.” Dean says with a charming grin. “King of the straight and narrow, that’s me. I’ve learned some manners from Bobby. Right, Bobby?” The spa owner shoots the young man a stare full of ire and manages to mutter an affirmative reply before barely being able to give the officer a nod while she’s leaving. Then he sighs heavily and leans across the table to look directly into Dean’s eyes.

“All right, Dean. Do something I obviously can’t do. Get your girlfriend back!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have tried to keep Dean's immersion in the supernatural to a minimum, and so wrote Bobby's wife with dementia rather than making her the victim of demon possession. Frankly, I think there is enough psychological damage in the Winchesters' lives--and the lives of their adopted family (Ellen, Jo, Bobby) to add more dealings with demons than is necessary. Besides, dementia is a disease that affects 47.5 million of the world's people, and there are 7.7 million new cases every year. (This information was gathered by the World Health Organization. This is their website: www.who.int/mediacentre/factsheets/fs362/en/ )


	6. ~Scene 5~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries to study and then goes to a party

A few days later, Dean spots Sam and Cassie with a few other students—Chelsea, Andy, Ava, and Meg—gathered in a study group. He grabs a pack of Heineken from his microfridge and crosses the common room of the dorm wearing a dashing grin, even though his heart is pounding. “Hey guys, I thought I’d join your study group. I brought some drinks.” Cassie looks up at him with a tiny smile. She knows he’s trying, and it would be sweet, except

“We can’t drink beer while we study,” Sam snorts derisively. “This is meant to be a SOBER activity, Dean. Besides, all the seats are taken.” He gives his big brother a pushed-out lip face with a raised eyebrow to boot. No one speaks up for Dean. Not even Cassie, who has begun to gaze fiercely at the stout wooden table in front of her.

“Ah, I see. Okay. No problem. I’ll just—see you in class, then.”

Later that evening in the dorm, he hears mention of a house party and brightens up considerably. Law school may not be too tough to take if SOMEONE knows how to live it up! Dean pokes his head out of his room and spots his beanpole brother retreating down the hall.

“Psst—hey, Sammy. I heard someone mention a party.”

“Oh,” Sam tries to sound enthusiastic about the information his brother received. “Yeah, it’s at 45 Dunstan Street.” Dean nods and is about to re-enter his room when Sam adds, “And get this—it’s a BYOB affair. You may wanna bring that Heineken!” Dean’s face lights up and he runs into his room to gather booze. 

When he reaches the address, however, he wishes he’d stayed home. When he offers people a beer, they look at him like he’d just been squeezed through a slimy stinking garbage can outside the door to be dumped in the foyer. It probably doesn’t help that he’s wearing his ‘BOOZE AND BABES’ t-shirt or that he’d used day-glo spray paint to outline his abs and his shorts barely cover his ass. What’s the point of a party if you don’t go all-out, though? This isn’t a real party! Dean pushes through the crowds, searching for Sam. He finally spots him, wearing a crimson sweater over a sky blue collared shirt. And loafers. Jesus H. Christ. Inserting himself in his younger brother’s line of sight, Dean folds his arms across his chest and clears his throat to get Sam’s attention. Sam turns and nearly spits water all over his squeaky-clean stodgy shoes.

“Hiya, Sam. Way to be a fucking asshole.” Sam has the good grace to look sorry.

“What I wanted to explain, Dean, is that this is a law school party. People don’t go crazy here. They hydrate and maybe drink a little wine, but Harvard is too classy for Heineken. And since it wouldn’t work to tell you…I needed to show you.” Dean glowers after that part of the comment, but in his response he decides to let it slide.

“But what’s the point of a party if you can’t just…let loose?”

“This is a serious party, Dean.” Cassie adds as she comes over wearing a classy black dress and looking good in it. Really good, dammit. “People can relax and have a good time without getting trashed. It’s possible. That’s why I didn’t think you should come to a place like this. It’ll bring you down. You’re always so up, so crazy, so fun. There are more valuable things that you can do with your time, sweetie.”

“Don’t you want me to be serious? What, do you think I can’t take it?! I can blow past any of these assholes!” When she doesn’t agree, simply seeming embarrassed by his anger, Dean’s shoulders slump. “That’s it, then. I’m never gonna be good enough for you, am I, Cassie?” She looks at him with eyes full of pain and the hope for his understanding of her decisions, but he’s having none of it. His green eyes have gone hard. “Fine. Just forget it. I’ll show you how valuable Dean Winchester can be!”

With that decision in mind, Dean becomes a whirlwind of determination. He goes out that very evening to invest in a laptop, since that is what everyone else seems to be using to take efficient notes and write perfect papers. Of course he is completely at a loss in the computer department of BestBuy, because all he’d ever bought there was a set of kickass speakers once. Luckily (or unluckily) he is very easy to spot in his day-glo shirt.

“Can I help you?” Asks a young woman’s pleasant voice. She has long auburn hair and is, as Charlie would say, a looker. Her name tag reads ANNA. She is taking in his outfit amusedly, so he strikes a pose and acts nonchalant, as if this is how he does all of his shopping.

“Yeah. I’m a first-year law student and I’ve got to get a laptop that has enough memory space for all the notes and papers I’m going to be saving on it. Oh, and with lightning-fast internet.”

“Would you like to look at a MacBook? They are not only our fastest running computers, but are also extremely light and durable, and thus can be carried in a backpack with ease, even after it’s stuffed full of books.” Anna smiles at him and moves ahead, her long hair rippling. “We also have some Samsung laptops that…” she launches into a spiel that has Dean’s head buzzing before he finally decides to purchase the first one she mentioned before thanking her profusely for all of her help. This gets him a broad smile and a card with her personal phone number on the back in case he has any questions about or issues with the laptop. After thanking her, Dean is hugging the box to his chest in the checkout line when he feels someone studying him. Turning back and feeling a prickle of embarrassment for the first time, he sees Castiel (looking dapper in his trench coat as always) carrying a new binder and a few packets of markers. 

“Hey, Cas.” Dean closes his eyes for a moment as the other man looks him up and down. “Don’t ask.”

“I was not going to,” Castiel promises. 

“Thanks, dude. I don’t need any more miscommunications today.”

“Ah. Well, have a good evening, Dean,” the TA says quietly. “See you in class.”


	7. ~Scene 6~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean calls a few friends.

That night, after the disastrous party and the embarrassing computer purchase, Dean needs some moral support so he decides to call his pal Benny.

“Yoooo what’s happenin’ Winchester??? Are you bangin’ your girl in the name of the law?” a deep voice shouts from the phone. Dean laughs. Benny must have it on speaker. And of course Victor is there—his two friends are practically inseparable. 

“Victor Henrikson, you kinky son of a bitch,” is Dean’s reply. “Nah, man, I’ve got to charm her first, y’know. What are you guys doing right now?” because whenever those two are together, there’s bound to be mischief afoot. Victor laughs throatily into the phone.

“You wanna tell him, Benny?” Suddenly the comforting warm Southern drawl of Benny Lafitte’s voice comes through the phone lines, making Dean relax in spite of himself.

“Hey Dean-o, how you doin’?” Dean sighs heavily and sheds his bantering persona.

“Well I feel like shit, Benny. I don’t know if this is gonna work…but I’ve managed to make a few friends so we’ll see how it goes.” Benny is quiet for a moment, digesting that information carefully.

“Friends are important, man. You got me, don’t’cha? Yeah, and it’ll get better.”

“How do you know?” Dean asks helplessly.

“Because you’re Dean Winchester. You’re a hero!” Benny attempts the movie quote but botches the accent and mutters “I never get that right, dammit!” but now Dean is laughing again and Benny tells him about the football game that they’re going to—where apparently Victor is going to lather his entire body with paint and “He’ll have nothing on but a foam finger, if you know what I mean,” Benny says significantly. Dean’s eyes widen and he sits up straight on his bed.

“No shit, man, Vicky’s goin’ streaking?! Didja tell him the administration’s not gonna let him in to the stadium, or if they do, if he does anything disruptive or destructive he’ll be kicked out of school nam infinitum???” Benny is silent for a minute before he responds with rising excitement and a hint of amusement,

“You’re really into this law school thing, aren’t you, brother?”

“Pfft, no I’m not, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“You just used a Latin phrase in a sentence for God’s sake, Dean. Just tell me if you’re enjoying it so I know something’s going okay—yeah, yeah, beSIDES the friend thing.” Benny adds as Dean opens his mouth, the snarky denial he’d been planning to make sticking in his throat. Dean shakes his head in wonder. It’s always Benny who can get the truth out of him. Even though Victor says he wants to be an FBI investigator one day, it’s constantly been big, quieter Benny who Dean opened up to.

“Yeah, I guess I am enjoying it a little.”

“Good.” Benny huffs out a laugh. “Well, I’ve gotta go make sure Victor doesn’t get arrested for indecent exposure!”

“And watch the game.”

“Of COURSE I’ll be watching the game—that’s a given.” Dean grins, happily imagining the rolling of his bearlike friend’s dark eyes.

“You better tell me what happens with it all though,” he says.

“You betcha. Bye, Dean.”

“Talk to you later, Benny.”

Next he calls Charlie, because knowing her she’d figure out that he talked to Victor and Benny somehow and then she’d get all offended that he hadn’t called her next…isn’t she as good a friend? Didn’t she get him dressed up like a Scottish knight a la William Wallace on LARP day? (Which Dean is still NOT talking about, by the way) and she told him to call her at LEAST once a week, so here it is: his first one.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Charlie, it’s Dean.”

“DEAN!! Oh my gosh how are you doing??? How’s schoolwork? Did you get your books yet? I just got an email from Amazon, saying that your package is on its way—oh and it’s SUPER big.” He can just hear her snickering away from the phone’s receiver at that awful penis joke. He groans loudly.

“Of course I’m doing terrible because I’m not there, Charlie! After listening to your crap jokes daily and being dragged in costume to comic book conventions; why on Earth would I ever desert THAT to come to Harvard? I miss it so much!!” he adds in a pretty convincing sniff, or at least HE thinks it is, but she just says,

“Oooh Dean, your sarcasm bites! But you know you love me.” He smiles at that, remembering her tilted head and pushed in shoulders, beaming pale pixie face framed by that red hair as she hugged him goodbye and waved furiously as his car pulled away.

“I know.”

“But how are things, seriously? Have you seen and/or talked to Cassie yet?”

“Uh…sort of.”

“What do you mean??? Dean?”

“I kinda accused her of sleeping with my little brother the first time I saw her.”

“Ouch! Wait, your brother SAM? How does HE know her?”

“They apparently met at orientation this past summer. Charles, she didn’t even tell me about that! She said she had to spend a week at the beach with her mom and then a few weeks working…Jesus I’m such a moron.”

“No you’re not, Dean. She was just trying to figure out what she wanted to do. Don’t be too harsh on her—she’s a strong independent woman who—”

“If you say ‘don’t need no man’ I’m hanging up on you, Charlie.”

“Hahahaha.”

“I mean it!”

“Oh come ON, Dean—she doesn’t need to cater to anyone. Cassie’s smart, and when she sees what she wants she goes and gets it. I’m not saying she doesn’t still love you—I KNOW she does—but she’s just trying to get her life in order.”

“Way to be melodramatic there—you make it sounds like she’s dying!”

“Let me finish, please, Dean. You’ve gotta be there for her, but make sure to be supportive of her while she figures things out.” There’s just something about Charlie—she says things with such conviction that Dean automatically believes them and wonders why he didn’t before. He talks to her a while longer, telling her about meeting Cas and going to a spa—“A spa, Dean?? YOU?”

“Yeah, come on, I’ve gotta keep this gorgeous machine running and it takes some work. Plus I made a few friends—the spa owner’s name is Bobby Singer and he’s kind of a gruff guy but he likes good music so that’s all right. Oh and there’s Jo, the eighteen-year-old daughter of my Law 101 teacher, which I was kinda freaked out to find out, by the way—but she’s a really cool kid, well technically an adult, yeah yeah I know. She’s waiting on college to work at the spa as well as at her mom’s restaurant, The Roadhouse, at the moment.”

“So she’s a bit like you, then?” Dean hadn’t really thought about it, but

“Yeah. That’s one reason why I like her. Oh yeah, and The Roadhouse has the best pie and burgers I’ve ever eaten. You’ll have to visit me and I’ll take ya there. I think you’ll like Ash—he’s the bartender; went to MIT and has a MULLET.” Charlie laughs uproariously.


	8. ~Scene 7~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The times they are a-changing...

“Is he carrying BOOKS?” Sam incredulously asks Cassie as Dean strides past them early to Professor Crowley’s class, carrying a stack of books that makes his muscles bulge and his breathing short so he can’t muster a smartass comment, which is just as well. Climbing up the lecture hall tiers, Dean catches a whiff of what he can only describe as the color blue. A familiar and welcome presence appears beside him.

“Hello, Dean. Do you require assistance?” The earnest kindness of the voice makes Dean smile.

“Hey, Cas. Thanks for the offer, man, but I’m gonna have to get used to this stuff somehow, so I’ll do it.” He maneuvers himself around chairs, and Castiel has to work really hard not to stare too long at Dean’s posterior, which is prominent in his rather tight jeans, as well as the rippling tanned muscles of his arms and the freckles that cover Dean’s face, trailing down his arms and probably all over the rest of his body…he can’t believe Dean is this beautiful, and that he is totally unaware of what is happening in Castiel’s head. But something IS different—a change has come over his friend, Castiel notices. Not only is he driven, attentive, and silent in Crowley’s class today, but Dean has even begun to study with his books in the library, rather than just using it as a place to sleep.


	9. ~Scene 8~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confident question

“After one has filed a claim, what is next? Mr. Winchester?”

“Uh, don’t you need evidence?”

“Meaning?” Professor Harvelle says, her face impassive, though Dean detects a slight twinkle in her eyes. She has begun to warm up towards him now that she sees he is paying close attention in class…and his protective friendship with her daughter certainly doesn’t hurt their relationship.

“Meaning…you need reasonable belief that your claim has, um, evidential support?” He clenches his teeth in the expectation of being shot down where he is sitting; therefore he is floored to see a tiny smile split Ellen Harvelle’s normally solemn face.

“Very good, Dean. And what must one do to locate that evidential support?” she continues to the rest of the class, leaving him to pump his fist and revel in his pride for an instant.


	10. ~Scene 9~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An incredible offer

“Sweeny was a habitual sperm donor, which gave him the right to locate his children. With this precedent in mind, Mr. Latimer wasn’t stalking; he was completely within his rights for visitation. Without this man’s sperm, the child in question wouldn’t exist.” Sam says confidently.

“Excellent, Mr. Winchester,” Crowley intones. Dean rolls his eyes. He can take Sam’s look of satisfaction; the professor’s praise; even Cassie’s arm pat and whisper of ‘good job!’ in his little brother’s ear. But then Dean happens to glance over at Castiel, only to see him studying Sam with interest. Dean can’t have that. He loudly clears his throat.

“I have to wonder if the defendant made a thorough record of every sperm emission made throughout his life.” Dean feels his palms begin to sweat as Crowley ceases writing on the chalkboard and then slowly pivots and raises his dark inscrutable eyes to study Dean.

“And this matters because…?” 

“Why now, why this sperm? Unless he checked in with every one-night stand to see if a child resulted in THOSE unions, he has no claim to THIS child in particular. And for that matter, any masturbatory emissions where his sperm was clearly not seeking an egg could be termed reckless abandonment.”

“I believe you’ve just won your case.” Crowley purrs. Dean has to stop a grin from spreading across his face. He is one of the last to leave that afternoon, and when he is nearly at the door, the professor stops him. “Mr. Winchester, you did well today. Have you considered applying for my internship? You should. Do you have a resume?” Dean’s eyes widen.

“Oh yeah I do, it’s on the back of my Cal Tech recruitment roster—here.” Crowley widens his eyes at the formerly crumpled sheet of paper with a slight beer stain on one corner. Castiel comes up to the dumbstruck professor as Dean exits the classroom.

“Blimey, Castiel—do you think he just woke up one morning and said, ‘I think I’ll go to law school today’?” The TA tilts his head to one side, carefully watching Dean saunter down the hall.

“Well, with that lapse in judgment aside, I believe he has a lot of potential.”


	11. ~Scene 10~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few relationship issues

Dean is not the only person in this area with relationship problems.

“Sometimes I tell her I’m doin’ okay instead of fine,” Bobby grumbles after yet another uncomfortable mumbled conversation—or what barely passes for a conversation—with Officer Jody Mills. Dean rolls his eyes.

“All right, Bobby, you’re obviously hopeless on your own, so I’m going to teach you something my dad taught me. It has an 85% success rate, and when applied correctly, can get the user an invitation to a dining establishment—or at the very least a phone number.” Bobby protests gruffly that he doesn’t need any help from an idjit like Dean, and besides, he’s too old for the ‘dating scene’. Jo clicks her tongue and pulls a face at her boss.

“That’s just sad, Bobby. You’ve got all the equipment—you just need to make sure people know it still works.” Dean smirks into his jacket collar as Bobby whirls around to glare at his young employee.

“What people, young lady? I don’t especially give a crap if you two think I don’t have the goods to follow through.”

“Not US, Bobby. Officer Mills, of course! Jesus, you’re hopeless.” Dean shakes his head and rolls his shoulders back before going to the center of the spa floor. “All right, here we go. You just click—” he whips out one arm with a finger gun and clicks his tongue as he points it at Jo for effect, “and wink.” Dean exaggeratedly winks an apple-green eye and grins broadly. “It’s that simple.” 

Jo busts out laughing as Bobby squints disbelievingly at Dean. “Don’t look at me like that, man! Just try it.” The spa owner sighs heavily and shuffles over to stand next to Dean. He glares at the two of them out from under the brim of his baseball cap and jerks his arm out stiffly. His hand flops like a dead fish and his eyelid flutters spasmodically. “Good, um…maybe a little more click and a little less wink next time.” Dean adds brightly, trying desperately to smother his smirk and be supportive.


	12. ~Scene 11~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shocking revelation

“What the hell is going on?” Dean asks gruffly as a huge pileup of students fills the entire hallway. “I thought I left this shit behind in high school. Just get to your classes, people!” He notices the crowd centering on the communal bulletin board just in time for Garth, a classmate of his in Professor Harvelle’s lectures, to spot Dean and come over to him with a huge smile.

“Hey, Dean!” he says brightly. “Have you heard the news yet?” Dean shakes his head. “Crowley’s got a high-profile defense case going on right now, and since his workload is so big, he’s taking on first-year interns!”

“Holy shit, Cassie! We got it!!!” Sam yells, his freakish height making it easy for him to spot the list over everyone else’s heads. Cassie laughs with delight as Sam hugs her, and Dean shoves his way to the front of the queue.

“With that many spots, there’s just room for—”

“ME!!!” Dean bellows, leaping up and clicking his heels together with a goofy grin. “YES!” His brother’s dumbstruck face and Cassie’s look of admiration are SO worth it to Dean. He only needs to do a WEE bit of rubbing in. “Oh, Cassie, do you remember those four great hours we spent in the hot tub after winter formal?” He cuts his eyes at Sam as if to say Yeah. Top that, bitch. “This is so much better than that!” As he walks away he swears he can hear his younger brother chuckle,

“Four HOURS??” at Cassie. But he doesn’t care (too much). He has some car maintenance and a little bit of shopping to do.


	13. ~Scene 12~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of a crap shoot. (This is another long one.)

“You look very nice today, Sam.” Dean says to his brother, who is fidgeting and patting down his hair, terrified about -almost- working one-on-one with Professor Crowley. Dean smiles. It’s good to see that some things haven’t changed.

“Thanks, Dean.” Is Sam’s too-short answer. Oh well, if they’re not back to the Sammy-talking-Dean’s-ear-off stage quite yet there’s still time to make it work. Sam has now begun tugging at his tie, which prompts Dean to roll his eyes.

“Here, genius. Let me help you out with that.” Sam stands stock-still as his older brother tightens the knot in his tie quickly before situating it right on the collar over his throat, then brushing off the shoulders of Sam’s jacket and clasping his brother’s shoulders in a bracing gesture. Dean clears his throat and nods at his brother before striding quickly down the hall. Sam stays behind for only a second before realizing he needs to get a move on in order not to be late.

“Welcome, welcome, now settle down kiddies,” James Crowley intones as his six interns—Garth (who’d told Dean about it first and who was obviously in another one of Crowley’s classes because Dean had never seen him or heard him speak during his own lectures), Meg, Ruby, Cassie, Sam, and Dean—take their places. “Now then. This is my assistant, Castiel. You may have seen him in the classroom or skulking around campus somewhere doing my research.” Dean’s eyes light up with welcome as Cas sidles down the table to sit across from him.

“Thank you for that introduction,” Castiel says coolly, one eyebrow quirked at Dean. If he hadn’t seen that, the TA’s response would have been perfectly polite. As it is, Dean can barely contain his laughter. The professor nods curtly before jerking his head at Castiel to pass out some packets of paper about the person they’ll be defending.

“Meet our defendant. Kevin Tran.” Crowley reads from papers in a manila folder. “He is seventeen years old; a baby, really, but is being tried in adult criminal court as a result of the seriousness of his supposed crime. Which is the murder and dismemberment of his mother.” There are several gasps. “Ah yes, ‘oh horrible! Horrible! Most horrible,’” Crowley intones.

“That’s what we’re trying to prove DIDN’T happen, though, right?” Dean asks loudly after looking at Kevin’s mug shot and glancing over his information: 5’3” 115 pounds. Chinese-American. Black hair and brown eyes. “What’s this kid like?”

“He is an honors student. Top of the class, even doing Advanced Placement.”

“How many of those classes is he taking?”

“Five each semester.” The professor doesn’t really seem impressed.

“Has he taken the SATs?”

“Not yet. He has taken the PSATs twice, though, and would have completed the SAT this fall.”

“Wow,” there is a whistle from Sam. Cassie’s eyes are wide. Even Castiel wears a look of wonderment. Crowley sighs dramatically.

“Is there something important in all this?”

“Well, sir,” Dean says slowly, “If I remember correctly, AP classes are a huge deal in the American education system. If you take the tests for ‘em you can place out of basic bullshit in college. But the thing is you have to get a certain high score on these tests. When Sammy here was taking a few of those classes, he barely had time to talk. I would have to bring him food in his room and check if he was still alive. If he’d taken the SAT the same semester as all of that…” Dean blows air out of his cheeks in a drawn-out hiss. “I would’ve had to set up an IV or force-feed him.” There is a snicker from Meg, one of the other interns in the room. Dean gives her a glare. “My POINT being is Kevin wouldn’t’ve had the time to plan out his mom’s murder. Besides, she was the one who cooked for him and took care of him and loved him no matter what. No kid wants to lose that.” His voice gets much quieter. Sam shoots him a loaded look across the table, and so does Castiel. Both of their eyes are full of different things, but Dean doesn’t meet either one’s gaze. Good thing too, because if he did he might tear up and if there’s one thing Dean Winchester doesn’t do around just anyone, it’s cry. Luckily for him, Crowley clears his throat importantly and enlists Sam to get him a cappuccino. Dean looks up just in time to catch the shock and irritation that cross his brother’s face. Castiel’s eyebrows come together and Dean keeps his eyes up until Sam comes back with the coffee. 

Crowley says there’s no time like the present to get to know their defendant in person, and then the door is opened for Kevin: a small, slight, big-eyed young man whose orange jumpsuit is swamping him. Dean and Sam share a look of shock—this kid barely looks FIFTEEN, let alone seventeen! He looks like a cornered rabbit, his eyes darting around the room as his guards firmly plant him in a seat. If not for their hands clamped around his shoulders, Dean would expect this Tran kid to evaporate into the air. He’s that little. 

Crowley positions himself on the table in front of Kevin to draw the boy’s attention, and Dean can see the kid visibly deflate. This doesn’t seem to bother Crowley—on the contrary, he almost appears to relish it. Dean decides he’d better try to reassure this kid, and so gives Kevin a nod and a smile when the young man’s eyes light upon him. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Sam doing a similar thing—well, his version of it, where he flashes the puppy-dog eyes full of sentiment—and is glad that the two of them are on the same page enough to try to bond with this kid and make him feel at ease. This is something that Crowley obviously doesn’t know their client needs because he booms,

“Kevin Tran, I am James Crowley, Esquire, and your defense attorney. My associates and I are here to ask you several questions about the death of your mother. You need to answer honestly, is that clear?” Kevin nods with his eyes wide and lips mute. Crowley snorts. “Let me make myself crystal-clear. I will require a VERBAL answer, do you understand?!” Kevin winces.

“Y-yes sir.”

“Good.” Crowley smiles carnivorously. “Now, I need you to tell us the events of the morning of your mother’s murder. In detail.” Kevin’s eyes fill with tears and he looks terrified.

“We just want you to answer to the best of your ability, okay?” Sam adds gently. “Mr. Crowley is one of the best defense attorneys in the country. He’ll do all that he can to help you.” Crowley whips his head around and glares.

“I don’t remember asking for your input, Mr. Winchester!”

“Sorry, sir. I was just…”

“Establishing a link with the witness,” Dean cuts in loudly, staring down the table at Crowley. He’s not gonna let this man say any shit to his little brother. “The kid’s not gonna talk to you if you scare the piss outta him first thing—or if you show as much emotion as a freaking Vulcan! Let my brother work with him, sir. He’ll get to the truth. I promise you.” Glaring at Dean with a look that kills, the defense attorney growls,

“I will hold you to that promise, Dean Winchester.” The murderous look in the professor’s eyes gives Dean a chill until Castiel drops a warm hand upon the elder Winchester’s shoulder—having risen up and walked around the table—and gives Crowley a hard stare in return.

“Have no fear of Dean,” the TA intones quietly. “He is righteous. In fact, I would fear for YOU if you impugned this man’s honor, sir.” There is a beat of silence. Cassie’s eyes are wide as she looks between the four men, Ruby raises her eyebrows and smirks, and Meg just looks bemused. Dean bobs his head up and down crisply. He can’t believe Cas would stand up for him and say things like that—he never even knew that people used the word ‘righteous’ anymore. And he didn’t know that he still possessed any honor in the eyes of others that someone could ‘impugn’—whatever that means. But it feels good. Really good. Dean clears his throat and focuses once more on Kevin Tran.

“Well that’s that, then. Sorry kid, there seems to be an exorbitant amount of testosterone in this room. I’ll let you get in touch with the estrogen. That’s your cue, Sam,” Dean cracks and his brother gives him the beloved bitch-face. Cassie giggles, and even Kevin manages to crack a small smile. “NOW we’re gettin’ somewhere!” Dean crows, exultant. Sam heaves the sigh of the long-suffering and rises to get closer to the boy they are defending.

“All right, if we’re done... Hi Kevin. I’m Sam. It’s nice to meet you.” Kevin looks up, and up, and up at the younger Winchester before whimpering in the smallest of voices

“Please don’t kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you!” Sam replies, incredulous. “My job is to protect you, Kevin. That’s all I’m here for.”

“Yeah, I know he looks like Sasquatch or Godzilla,” adds Dean, “But Sammy here wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s the biggest softie in the world. I would know—I grew up with him.” Sam glares at him. “All right, I’ll tell you that story later, Kevin. Your turn, Sam.”

“THANK you, Dean. All right Kevin, would you tell us the events that happened to you on the day of your mother’s death?” Kevin swallows hard, his eyes fixing on Dean and then back on Sam.

“I—I woke up at 5:45am. It’s my usual time; because I have to make sure all of my papers are catalogued and organized for school. I go to an early study seminar for the SAT…or at least, I did.” His voice trails off as it hits him anew that his life is currently on hold. “Anyway, Mom had made me scrambled eggs with bacon and cream cheese, with a peanut butter protein shake. I know it sounds weird, but she always wanted to make sure that I got enough carbs and protein to last me the entire day. She called it ‘brain food’.” He laughs and swipes a hand over his eyes, the metal manacles making a horrible shrieking sound as they clatter against the table. “I come home for lunch at 11:30 every day, because that’s when my mom is on her break from making calls. She is—was—an environmental travel agent who spoke to people around the world from home, especially people in China…but she did a lot of other things too. I got home a little late that day because I was— talking to my girlfriend…” he presses his mouth closed tight when Dean wolf-whistles at this piece of news.

“Hot damn, kid! Getting some action before the SAT! What’s her name?”

“…Channing. We met up before lunch, and um, I lost track of time.”

“I BET you did,” Dean says, winking.

“Dean.” Sam gives his brother a hard stare. “Let him finish.” Turning back to the defendant, he encourages, “Go on, Kevin.”

“So, I hurried home and got there at 11:45. I come in to see my mother—” his voice chokes off with tears. Dean can feel his own eyes prickle and clears his throat to stop the tears from starting, but then Castiel takes his hand and squeezes it fiercely. Dean could kiss the other man for that, always knowing when he’s about to lose it and keeping him grounded. He is brought back to the subject at hand when his little brother asks,

“Are you sure you got there at 11:45? And your mother was…already—deceased?” Sam tries to be delicate with the word, not alluding to the horrible lurid tableau that had been vividly presented in the manila folders on the table in front of all of the interns. Kevin lets out a long shuddering breath.

“Yes, I did. I didn’t see anything—beforehand…” Ruby interrupts him loudly,

“You SURE there wasn’t anyone else in your house already?” Kevin hesitates, blinking, maybe because he didn’t expect anyone else to speak to him besides Sam, or maybe because he’s trying to cover something up—or maybe it’s because his mother is DEAD, you dumbass, Dean thinks to himself.

“N-no, ma’am. Nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Meg asks in a sing-song way. “You’re not forgetting something because you were too scared, Kevy-wevy?” Ruby snorts with laughter at this comment, and Dean really wants to punch those looks of amusement off their faces. These girls are ENJOYING Kevin’s misery! Vultures. Cassie gazes at them with eyes wide in shock, and Dean thanks God for his ex-girlfriend, always seeing things in the right. She’s the most moral person he knows, along with his brother, and he recognizes her goodness anew as she snaps out now,

“What is WRONG with you two?! Stop traumatizing him! We’re trying to prove that he’s blameless in this crime, and you already think he’s lying??” 

Kevin clamps his jaw and snaps his mouth shut; his eyes brim over with tears. Behind Cassie from the corner where they almost forgot he’d been lurking, Crowley purrs,

“Well that’s the real trick, isn’t it, Cassandra?” Cassie flinches when the professor uses her full name, bending down behind her, his breath ruffling her curly hair. Dean has to force himself not to rise and go to her. He is squeezing the hell out of Castiel’s hand and probably bruising his bones, but Cas still hasn’t let go. That is dedication, Dean decides distractedly as he glances over at Cas in gratitude, before Crowley says, “It will be just as difficult to convince the jury that he is innocent. Especially if he is not telling us everything.” Crowley looks coldly at the young prisoner once more and gives a dismissive wave of his hand to Kevin and the guards. “That will be all for now. You may go.” Dean watches the defendant leave, his escorts shoving him around so mercilessly that he almost trips over his ankle chains. He can tell Kevin is hiding something because he’s terrified, and he also knows that discovering whatever it is will most likely be beneficial in their case to exonerate the kid. He squeezes Castiel’s hand once more, grateful that the TA was at his side for this shitstorm. He decides to visit Kevin in prison, alone. Maybe he can get the kid to trust him then.


	14. ~Scene 13~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is where things REALLY start to get interesting.

“Hey, Kevin. I brought you some shaving cream, a safety razor—no slitting your wrists, kid; we’re gonna get you out of here, I promise—some toilet paper (which you’ve gotta have, man, so hoard it like it’s gold), a bunch of candy bars because everyone needs a pick-me-up and chocolate is the best there is, a deck of cards so you can play poker and whip all these old guys’ asses. Don’t look at me like that; I know you’re a smart kid. Bet you’ve played poker since you were in diapers. Oh, and one more thing—” Dean lowers his voice conspiratorially and looks around furtively before whipping out his trump card—porn. Busty Asian Beauties, the magazine title reads. “Trust me, Kev, this is better than the Bible.”

“Oh, my God. You know I have a girlfriend, right? I mean, hopefully she’ll still want to be with me if I get out…”

“WHEN you get out,” Dean corrects swiftly. “And of course she’ll still want you, dude! The ladies love a bad boy!”

“Are you sure Crowley can prove I’m innocent?”

“Oh yeah. He may not look like much more than a sloppy sot with a British accent, but he’s actually brilliant. So I keep getting reminded.” Dean snorts and then stretches before getting down to business. “How are they treating you in here, kid? You doing all right?” Kevin laughs mirthlessly.

“Well, it’s not the Four Seasons, that’s for sure.” Dean’s eyes twinkle.

“Yeah, they don’t even have Frankie Valli, do they?” He is greeted with a blank stare in reply. “Oh man, kid, you really need to listen to some old music. As soon as you get out I’ll treat ya to a ride in my Baby and you can listen to my mixed tapes.”

“Your baby?? How many times do I have to say I have a GIRLFRIEND, Dean! Plus I doubt you’d be good with children.” Dean looks both affronted and amused.

“What, you think I meant a real kid? Hehhehheh. That’s hilarious. No, I’m talking about my 1967 Chevy Impala. She drives like a dream. And what makes you think I wouldn’t be a good father?”

“Uh, this?” Kevin raises his eyebrows and holds up the magazine that Dean brought him. Dean shakes his head and busts out laughing. Kevin smiles too, and then they both end up giggling like idiots for several minutes.

“God, you are a riot,” Dean whistles, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. 

“You’re not so bad yourself. I can’t believe you’re a lawyer,” Kevin replies. Dean is reminded of his first conversation with Jo those long months ago.

“What? Don’t I look like the perfect picture of a man without a heart?” Dean is only half-kidding; after being taught by Crowley for the whole semester, he’s seen a prime example of the cutthroat lawyer who manages to have barely a hint of principle. Thus he is rather surprised and gratified to see Kevin’s face and voice become perfectly sincere and serious as he says,

“No. I can tell you have a huge heart because of the things you said to your brother and what you looked like when I talked about finding my mom…” Kevin’s voice cracks and Dean feels himself start to tear up again, imagining that and remembering the last time he saw his own mother... He blinks hard and clears his throat to dispel the tears, but Kevin notices them anyway. “See there, that proves it. And, yeah, that’s why I’ve decided to trust you.” Dean clears his throat and grinds his jaw, looking down at his lap because of this revelation. It’s been a while since anyone has told him that they trust him—it was the LACK of trust that Cassie had in him that brought him here in the first place. But maybe, just maybe, it’s all going to turn around. He leans forward now; elbows on the table and hands folded together, staring Kevin down, both intent and earnest.

“I appreciate that, Kevin, but if you really trust me I’m gonna have to have some proof.” Kevin’s face has gone slightly pale, but he manages to raise an eyebrow sardonically.

“I just gave you a meaningful compliment, Dean. Jeez. What kind of proof do you need?”

“I need you to tell me what you couldn’t tell Sam or Crowley yesterday.” Kevin freezes, a look of horror coming over his face, and his fingers loosen around the phone he’s holding. It hits the table with a crash! Scaring the shit out of a few of the other visitors and prompting a glare from the supervising prison guard. Kevin swallows and flexes his fingers to pick up the phone again, using tiny jerky movements as he puts the receiver back to his ear. He raises his tortured brown eyes to Dean.

“Dean, I—this thing could…ruin my life if it gets out.”

“Dude. You’re in PRISON, looking at a life sentence for murdering your mom— whom I don’t believe you killed for a second,—how can your life possibly get any worse???”

Kevin swallows hard and whispers,

“If I had to go to a psychiatric prison ward.” The statement is so clear and exact that Dean is stunned into complete silence for a moment. He has heard a little bit about prison psych wards, but not nearly enough to understand Kevin’s deep horror of them. He’ll have to ask Sam, if his brother will talk to him. Dean focuses back on Kevin, who is still speaking. “I’ve done extensive research on those places, Dean, and I would never come back out of one! That’s why I can’t—you wouldn’t understand.” The way he says the final phrase makes something snap in Dean’s brain. You wouldn’t understand; you’re not smart enough, sweetie. What about you? I never even knew you could get into a place like this; since you aren’t prepared for class, leave Mr. Winchester; you have to be SERIOUS, Dean. I AM serious!!! His mind shouts. He knows Kevin is just lashing out irrationally because of his own situation and the terror he feels, but at the moment Dean doesn’t really care; he decides to lash back.

“I wouldn’t understand, huh? You know NOTHING about me, kid. I heard my mother scream as she burnt to death on our nursery ceiling when I was four years old! I saw my father become a broken empty shell of a man, and he STILL hasn’t put himself back together yet. I had to take care of Sammy and feed him and protect him when I wasn’t even old enough for kindergarten! What the fuck do you think that did to both me and him?!” Kevin’s eyes are wide with shock now, and the prison guards are looking over, carefully scrutinizing Dean as he gestures manically, face red and teeth bared and gnashing—every stupid thing he ever did, anything disparaging anyone said to him pounds through his mind now and comes out as raw emotion behind this single furious outburst. It doesn’t make sense for Dean to be venting all of this to Kevin, but he has to get it out somehow. He stops, chest heaving, arms shaking and the phone clunking into the plexiglass that he has dropped his head against in exhaustion. Kevin says nothing, and that’s just fine with Dean. He had vented his spleen and if it didn’t help his budding client/lawyer relationship with the kid, well, at least the inmates and prison guards have gotten a good show.

Nothing else is said for a little while. Once everyone else is sure the crazy guy in the leather jacket talking to the Asian midget has calmed down, people resume murmuring into their phones—assurances, remonstrations, regrets. Kevin opens and shuts his mouth several times helplessly before noticing Dean’s hand resting on the tabletop on the other side of the plexiglass. He remembers Dean’s comment about Crowley showing a Vulcan amount of emotion, and places his hand against the glass, prying his middle and ring fingers apart to flash the sign of Spock. He doesn’t say anything along with it, though. Dean’s eyes have flicked up to study Kevin’s hand, which jitters a tiny bit. Against his own will, a smile twitches the corner of Dean’s mouth and a hint of sparkle returns to his eyes. So that’s how you wanna play it, then. Okay. Dean mirrors the hand sign, pressing his own palm and fingers to the glass. It’s the dorkiest thing he’s ever done, and he is EXTREMELY glad Sam isn’t anywhere nearby with a video camera. Somehow, though, underneath the overt dorkiness there is something else. Some lingering bit of truth—just as Spock and Kirk made the sign when they thought they could no longer be alive together but would always be friends nevertheless, always trusting one another to have the other’s back; and Kevin knows, now, after hearing Dean’s freak-out and seeing the look in his eyes, that this man can be trusted not to think he’s crazy. He lets out a tiny sigh and speaks.

“When I got to the house th-that day, I heard this weird whispering sound everywhere. For a second I thought it could be the wind rustling through the bushes, but we have holly in front of our house and there was no wind.” He gulps hard, eyes looking past Dean and slightly to one side, as if he is still seeing it… “I jogged up the gravel path and saw that a perfect circular patch of grass was dead and the door was ajar which were both weird but I also saw something brown wedged beside the storm door so I figured maybe the postman had left us a box or something, and it had gotten stuck just inside…” Kevin’s voice is trembling and he sucks in a huge breath of air. “Which goes to show that even though I’m in Advanced Placement I can’t register the truth of my own five senses; anyway I went in and the box was actually a chair from our kitchen; looked like it had been thrown, but—the kitchen is on the back side of the house and my mom’s a little lady—she couldn’t’ve thrown that, not with the big crack it had and the dent it made in the wall. I called her name and I heard some hissing so I thought maybe she’d left the gas on and had gone to the bathroom or something…but I went in, and as I turned the corner—and saw the blood—I looked up and this black—thing—slithered across the ceiling towards me. It was from that the hissing sound was coming from; kind of like laughing, and it had red eyes. Awful gleaming red eyes… and I know this because it looked at me for what seemed like forever and hissed ‘I’ll be back for you’ before scrambling over the doorframe on the ceiling and disappearing out of sight.” Kevin’s face has sunk into his hands and his voice is muffled. “So you see why I couldn’t say any of this to Crowley—he’d put me in the bug house for sure.” Yeah, just like he did to his old teaching assistant, Dean thinks. He swallows and then raps lightly on the glass so that Kevin will look up. Dean gives him a small sad smile.

“Don’t worry, Kev. Your secret is safe with me.”


	15. ~Scene 14~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting the third degree

“Well, well, well,” Crowley says as he comes into the conference room the next morning. “Sam, coffee.” Sam nods, his lips tight and eyes hard—(Dean heard from Cassie when passing her in the hall late yesterday after he’d talked to Kevin that Sam had been Crowley’s coffee gremlin SIXTEEN TIMES in the past few hours)—and he is now obviously fed up with it, lingering in the doorway for as long as he can as the defense attorney continues. “I discovered something interesting this morning. I got a call from the men’s prison informing me that our young defendant had a visitor for three hours yesterday afternoon—a distant cousin by the name of…” he looks down at the notepad in his hand “Short Round.” Sam muffles a snort and Cassie laughs out loud. Ruby looks at Dean half in anger and half in admiration like, ‘how dare you visit him under a false name? I was planning to do that!’ Dean gives her a smug glance in return. “And since we only know one person who is enough of a smartass to waltz into prison with a movie reference as their name…” The cover counselor slaps the pad down on the mahogany table and stares at Dean. “Do you have anything you would like to tell us?” Dean shifts in his seat, an involuntary smirk quirking his full-lipped mouth.

“Yeah, I went to visit him—so what? Do I need to sign out and get a hall pass from you, Professor? I brought him a care package.”

“A care package??” Crowley can’t seem to believe his ears. Neither can Sam, actually, though he does remember how Dean would always find him a couple of gifts for his birthday—candy bars, an old shirt of his, and when he got older—

“Oh my God, you didn’t actually give him porn, did you?!?” Sam says loudly, having totally forgotten about getting Crowley’s coffee. Dean’s smirk becomes a full-on Cheshire cat grin, which causes Cassie to groan and put her face in her hands. Sam cannot believe this. “You’re going to be a lawyer, Dean. You have to act professional!” Dean rolls his eyes heavenward.

“Oh, here we go…”

“Shut up for a second, Dean! You can’t just joke your way out of everything! With that and your Indiana Jones name, if the papers find out we’ll get slammed and Crowley could lose this case!” Dean glances around the room with his eyes wide. He hadn’t thought about that, but Crowley doesn’t seem at all concerned. In fact, he almost looks…satisfied?

“Well, I didn’t realize that. Sorry.” Dean harrumphs, slightly subdued. “But is THIS professional enough for ya, Sammy? He told me what he refused to tell you.”

“Excellent!” Crowley crows, pushing Cassie and Garth aside so he can get closer to Dean. “What was it, then? Moose gO GET THE COFFEE!!!” he barks at Sam, who slams into the doorframe because he leaves the room so fast. Dean shakes his head.

“I can’t tell you that.”

“What—why the bloody hell not?”

“He asked me not to tell anyone.” Begged was more like it. “I’m going to honor his request.”

“Oh come ON, Dean! This is a murder trial! Not some namby-pamby school gossip secrets center! Just tell us what it is, and it will help the case!”

“No, I think it could actually hurt the case.”

“Why do you think that, Dean?” asks Cassie calmly, trying to return some rationality to the room. Dean looks over at her with gratitude. 

“Because the nature of his confession was sensitive.”

“Oh for the love of—everything in this case is sensitive!” shrieks Ruby. “You want to keep this information to yourself til the last minute, don’t you, Winchester? Then you can whip it out just in time to save the day!!!” Dean sniffs and lowers an eyebrow.

“There was a poorly concealed innuendo in there, and I find it crude,” he says, not deigning to respond to the rest of the comment. As if he, Dean Winchester, could EVER save the day. A wise-ass car mechanic who just happened to get lucky and pass the LSAT exams with an awesome score…who hadn’t even owned a tie until he went shopping before this internship; yeah, right. Sam has returned and sets the cup of coffee down gently. He heard Ruby’s comment and Dean’s response, and he knows his older brother well enough to know exactly what he’s thinking right now. Sam’s eyes are full of compassion and respect for Dean, but his older brother isn’t looking at him because Crowley is blocking his view by intimidation, looming over Dean and threatening to fail him with a stare-down in full force. Does everyone know the characteristics of the ultimate stare-down? Yeah? Well Crowley possessed them all and was applying them with a will. When nothing happened except Dean leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, smiling enigmatically, Meg threatens to kick the chair out from under him and Dean says “Go ahead and try it, bitch,” with the hard look in his eyes that Sam knows so well, and he hopes no one is going to cross his big brother. Crowley, at least, is smart, and throwing up his hands he says

“Someone—just—try to reason with him,” and leaves, grabbing the coffee Sam got and gulping half of it down in one slug.

The instant the door clicks to after he exits, all of the interns lean in.

“Come on, Dean, I know trust means a lot, but this is a murder case. We need all the help we can get.” Says Garth sensibly.

“I can’t believe you’d be so sly and selfish, just waltzing in there to break the case wide open and then not even TELL us!” whines Meg.

“That’s not helping your case to get the truth outta me, sweetheart. And my answer is still no.”

“Just TELL him what the kid said! Why is that so hard?” yells Ruby.

“I can’t just break a fucking promise like that!! What kind of person would I be?”

“An intelligent one.”

“Well then we’re safe. I’ve never once been accused of being intelligent.” Dean stands up to go, feeling sick inside. A promise is a promise! Do none of these people have any scruples at all?!? He’s moving so quick down the table that he doesn’t see Cas stand up and face him until it’s too late—they collide and Dean’s as well as Castiel’s papers scatter all over the floor. “FUCK! Cas, sorry,” and he’s kneeling to pick the pages up as the other interns—well, Meg and Ruby at least—start laughing cruelly. Castiel has kneeled down too and is watching Dean’s face. His jaw muscles clench and he looks as angry and bitter and lost as he had the first day the TA met him. Seeing this, Cas gently caresses Dean’s face to get him to focus on Castiel’s sentiments and words.

“Don’t be sorry, Dean. You are in the right.” Dean stares at him in shock. “They will come to know that, as I do.” Then Cas is gone, his coat fluttering around him like a superhero’s cape as he steps out of Dean’s line of sight. Dean picks up his manila folder and goes back to his room to curse and kick the bed and throw papers around and generally hate his life and this entire goddamn internship he’s landed himself in. Then there is a knock on the door. Dean swears again and barks out,

“Dammit, who’s there? If it’s the maid I told you ‘no clean’ forty minutes ago! That sentiment still stands!!!” There is silence for an instant, and then,

“Dean, it’s Sam.” Sammy. Oh, shit—he can just see his little brother moaning about how he has no respect for the lawyer profession with all of his papers tacked to the walls and strewn across the entire room…

“Come in, the door’s open.” Dean says after a beat of shuffling the deposition that he’d been holding back into order. Sam does, ducking his head slightly and standing right next to the door that he’s just re-closed.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

…

And then there nothing for a long while except silence. This is so not like Sam. And just when he shifts and looks as if he’s about to say something heartfelt and meaningful:

“So…are you done with that deposition yet?” Dean tries desperately to hide his disappointment as he tosses the sheaf of papers across the bed.

“Oh yeah, take it. I’ve read it about twenty times.” Sam nods and carefully picks up the packet. As he turns to go his shoulders slump and then straighten again before he turns around and busts out with,

“Can you BELIEVE how many times Crowley’s asked me to get him coffee?? Never any of the other interns, just me! It’s like he has no confidence in my legal abilities but I can walk so I can get him a cappuccino. Screw his cappuccino!” Dean starts laughing. “Unless your legs are broken, go get it yourself.”

“Oh…my…God—” Dean shakes with hilarity. “Hey, I’m—thirsty, Sammy. Do you think you could get me—” The look his brother gives him has him gasping for air and he rolls off the far side of the bed, hitting the floor with a thump. Sam is instantly concerned.

“Dean?” There is nothing. Silence. His heart starts to pound. “Dean, are you okay? Did you hit your head? Are you passed out on the floor? Should I call 911?” More silence until,

“Yeah, I’m good, Sam—and if I was actually passed out on the floor, I wouldn’t be able to ANSWER you, dumbass,” Dean leaps up and kicks out his leg kiddingly at his little brother. Sam dodges the kick, takes a pillow, and slings it into his brother’s gut. “Bitch,” Dean gasps and flings the pillow at his brother’s face. Sam tries to dodge that and ends up catching it on the side of the head, which makes his mouth split into a bright silly grin.

“Jerk,” he replies fondly.

They are quiet again, but now it’s a much more comfortable silence—both of the brothers are remembering good times growing up…maybe because of the pillow fight or because of Sam’s simmering irritation at Crowley; Dean doesn’t know and he doesn’t care—he wants things to continue going like this. So he says, “Hey Sam, you wanna go for a ride in the Impala?” and then, the magic words: “And you can drive her.” Sam’s eyes open so wide it’s comical, and he seems almost completely lost for words, which is definitely not like him.

“Wha-I—Dean, are you serious??? You never let me drive your car unless there’s no alternative. Plus you’re gonna be there sweating over how much I pop the clutch!” Dean tries his damndest not to wince at this. He’s determined to have this brotherly time for the two of them.

“Yes, I seriously want you to drive. You can even play your shitty music. And I promise not to freak out on you this time.” He sheds his tie and suit coat before shrugging into his leather jacket and dangling the Impala’s keys in front of his little brother. “C’mon. Baby’s waiting.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell Crowley Kevin’s alibi!” Sam says wonderingly as they walk down the hall to reach the elevators. Dean’s stomach sinks. If even his staunchly moral little brother is going to try to get him to break his trust with their client…

“It wasn’t my alibi to tell, Sammy.” They stop outside the elevator and Sam presses the button.

“I know that, Dean. I thought it was…very noble of you.”


	16. ~Scene 15~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goin' on a road trip...

“We have another problem with our young defendant,” Crowley says the following day. “There seems to be a witness to some—heated—disagreements between him and his mother. Unfortunately, this witness does not want to come to court. So we will need to travel to get her statement.” He looks at a note on a sheet of paper. “According to my sources, she will be getting her Porsche serviced today at a mechanic repair shop. It is, however, a bit of a drive from here.” The lawyer pans his dark eyes around the room. “Are there any volunteers to undertake this quest?” Dean has been drumming his fingers on the table in boredom but can’t help stopping his beat and perking up at the word 'mechanic'. Ruby, who is sitting across from him, notices these actions and smirks.

“Maybe you should go question her, Dean. Aren’t mechanic shops, like, pretty much your mothership?” Dean makes a face at her.

“Sure, sweetheart, they’re my Millennium Falcon and my Enterprise. I can go if you want me to,” he says offhandedly to Crowley.

“Good.” The professor nods his head without looking up. “Castiel, go with him. We’d best be sure someone with a level head is there to keep Mr. Winchester from leaving my employ to work on the cars.” Castiel nods and gathers his papers together.

“Of course.”

“Sweet. But I get to drive,” Dean spins himself in front of Cas on the way out of the conference room, jangling his Impala keys triumphantly. Just before the door closes behind Castiel, they hear Crowley proposition Sam for coffee. Dean can clearly hear his little brother’s irritated sigh all the way through the door.

Dean is having a fantastic time hanging out with Cas and driving around in Baby listening to ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ …now THIS is the life. The lawyer’s assistant is staring uncomprehendingly at a road map of Massachusetts. The mechanic shop they are searching for is waaay off the beaten path and they’ve been on a long road for nearly forty-five minutes before Castiel realizes that they are travelling in the wrong direction.

“Dammit, Cas, how are you seriously this bad at reading road maps? I thought you swore you knew how to navigate all of the nuances of being an assistant to a top-notch defense attorney?!” Dean asks finally. “You’re such a—stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy looking nerf herder!” he sputters out a Star Wars insult because he can’t think of anything else to eloquently express his current level of irritation. Castiel snaps his head around to stare at Dean incredulously. 

“I cannot believe you just called me that, Dean. I have not heard those words since junior high school. I…I used to watch those movies with my brother Balthazar.” The wistful note in Castiel’s voice makes Dean decide then and there that he is going to have an Original Trilogy marathon with this man sometime soon. 

After passing a nice little bed-and-breakfast motel and driving for another quarter of an hour, Dean hits the brakes and coasts over to the road’s gravel shoulder for a moment. “Tell you what, Cas. If we don’t find this place in twenty minutes, whaddaya say we go back to that cozy-looking joint and stay the night?” He is half-kidding, but the sun IS starting to descend behind them; and it would be really nice to just relax, have dinner, and drink a few beers together without Crowley breathing down his neck or bellowing at Castiel to do some Kevin Tran paperwork. Thinking offhandedly about paperwork makes Dean remember their errand and all of the problems ensuing as a result of Crowley and the other interns’ lack of belief in Kevin. “Cas…you believe that Kevin is innocent, don’t you? I mean, just LOOK at the kid—I doubt he has enough body mass to physically knock his mother over, much less to brutally butcher her.” Castiel studiously stares at the map for a little while, his face at once both pensive and impassive as he broods over his answer. Dean really appreciates this about Cas, that he truly thinks about what he wants to say before opening his mouth to speak. However, the interminable silence is getting a little annoying…

“I believe that the odds are stacked against him,” Castiel says finally. “And that will make this case much more difficult. Only his alibi can save him at the moment, and this witness that we are en-route to find will most likely create another exponential set of problems for him.” Dean groans expansively.

“Thanks, Cas. I really needed to hear that positive endorsement. This is great—I think I’ll just BLOW MY BRAINS OUT!!” He shouts, smacking the steering wheel furiously. Castiel’s expression changes to one of abject horror and he grabs Dean’s right arm and says

“Dean. Stop the car, now.”

“What for?”

“Just do it.” Castiel orders in a firm voice that can barely stop itself from trembling.

“You thinking of becoming a Nike advertiser, Cas?” Dean kids, turning the wheel hand over hand to reach the road’s gravel shoulder once more. He turns off the ignition and withdraws the keys from their slot. His banter falls flat, though, when he takes a direct look at the other man’s face.

“You should not kid about killing yourself, Dean.” Dean rolls his eyes and starts to make a retort that he wasn’t serious and that the TA should just calm down, but Castiel stops him with a raised hand. “I understand that this case is a challenging and personal one for you, but even kidding about something of that nature is not healthy. Do you know what it would do to people—to me—if you…if you ever…” his voice trails off but he stares so fiercely at Dean and then at the surface of the passenger window—as if he intends to pulverize it—with his eyes glistening, that Dean cannot fail to get the message. He clears his throat and reaches out to put a bracing hand on Castiel’s shoulder. The other man grabs hold of it and squeezes Dean’s palm in his thin strong fingers.

“Okay, buddy, I get it, okay? I won’t do that again. I just—I blew a fuse. You’re right; this case is personal for me. And if we can’t even make it to hear this woman’s testimony…if we can’t get Kevin off…” Dean lets out a pent-up breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I believe Crowley is smart and persuasive enough to do it, but if for some reason he can’t…I don’t know what I’ll do with myself. That probably sounds really stupid.”

“No,” Castiel replies quietly. “It doesn’t.” He leaves it at that, but the lack of elaboration makes his words resonate with a strength of things left unsaid that surprises Dean. They do finally find the mechanic shop, and wonder of wonders—the red Porsche they were looking for is still being serviced. Dean sweet-talks the giggly receptionist into giving them the time that particular car’s owner is returning on the morrow. Thanking her and looking at all of the workers swarming over and under chassis and around axle a tad wistfully, Dean leads the way back out to Baby. He leans against her side gratefully.

“Welp.” He grins over at Cas, glad to be on the clock again, sure of something—they’re going to talk to this woman tomorrow and get her to tell the truth about Kevin. “Whaddaya say we head back to that motel?”


	17. ~Scene 16~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotel, motel, Holiday Inn

“This place is hoppin’.”

“Yes it is.”

“I’m afraid we only have one room big enough for two—it has a single queen-sized bed. Is that going to be a problem?” Dean and Cas look at each other and then back at the receptionist. There isn’t another hotel in sight—they hadn’t seen one for a few hours, actually—and they need to be near the automotive shop for their meeting the next morning.

“No, it’s fine. Can we have an extra set of linens, please?” Dean is half-thinking he could cover a chair or maybe sleep on the floor so as not to make Cas needlessly uncomfortable. He’d slept in the same bed with Sammy in hotels before, when they were younger, but he’s not sure if Castiel did the same thing…what am I talking about, he has SIX siblings, Dean thinks suddenly as the receptionist returns with a pile of sheets and blankets. Oh well. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Dinner is great—it’s a nice cozy dining room with warm yellow walls and the food is excellent; it tastes like home, if Dean ever knew what home tasted like. There’s some soft music emanating from somewhere, and Cas orders a bottle of wine. “A toast to Kevin,” he says when Dean raises his eyebrows at the extravagance.

“To Kevin,” Dean agrees, a smile crinkling his eyes in the way Cas likes because it’s real and true and relaxed and oh-so-rare. Maybe it’s the good food or the comfortable atmosphere; maybe it’s because they finish the whole wine bottle; or maybe because their waitress is not-so-secretly flirting with Dean, but Castiel has become more engaging than he’s ever before been. He has taken off the always-present trench coat as well as his suit jacket and is sitting in his button-down shirt with the loosened tie, leaning forward to take in everything that Dean says. And it is all worth it when the smiling waitress asks them if they want separate checks, and before Cas can reply, Dean raises his index finger pointedly. “Nope, this one’s all on me.” He winks at the waitress and hands her his credit card before smiling at Castiel and saying, “You didn’t think I’d forgotten my promise to pay for our next meal together, did you?” Actually, Castiel thought he had—and he wouldn’t’ve blamed Dean in the least for forgetting, with all of the extra work they had both been doing—but he is enormously grateful now; not in the least because the waitress’s grin has slipped and she seems to be thinking about all of the comments she and Dean have made to one another over the course of the evening. None of them matter now because he had been on a date with his boyfriend. Castiel can see all of this in her face, and he wonders if Dean recognizes it too, and if any of it bothers him. 

Sitting at the weathered wooden table waiting for their waitress to return with the check, Dean reflects on how relaxed he feels with Cas. There isn’t a silent standoff or any awkwardness between the two of them; he has never felt as if Castiel expects any more out of him than Dean has been willing to give. Every so often Cas takes him by surprise, like tonight with his ordering of the wine, but is that really such a bad thing? Doesn’t every relationship need to be at least a LITTLE BIT spontaneous? This is what he was missing with Cassie, Dean realizes. There was no room for real spontaneity when he was with her because she always pressured him to be serious. It wasn’t like he had a PROBLEM with that, exactly; he just wasn’t too good at it. Dean Winchester’s natural instinct is to shy away from the serious—to make his way through life using diversions and jokes; to turn a close-up onto one single aspect of a scene; to only allow others to see the image in black and white while he himself thrives—and vanishes—into the gray areas. That is where he essentially differs from Sammy. His little brother lives in a world of black and white morality…and even though Sam may erroneously perceive his world in color, he nevertheless wends his way through that world brilliantly, masterfully. Dean cannot. The faux-leather bound check cover returns at last and Dean signs his name with a flourish before grinning up at Castiel. “Well, that’s it. Ready to go, buddy?” 

When they get back to the room, Dean immediately starts spreading the extra blankets on the floor until Castiel comes out of the bathroom and just looks at him. He doesn’t even need to say it, but he does nevertheless: “Dean.” Dean shrugs and flings the bunched-up sheet at his friend.

“Well I just had to check,” he says, a smile stretching across his freckled cheeks. Castiel shakes his head. He hangs his suit and trench coat up in one of the garment bags in the closet, and gives Dean’s clothes the same treatment when the Winchester just tosses them haphazardly over the back of the single easy chair. Castiel’s face looks as scandalized as Dean’s had when they had their first car conversation about getting from Point A to Point B and nothing else when the Winchester man does this, which makes Dean start to snicker. Dean has an extra pair of sweatpants in the Impala because he’d practically lived in his car for a few months at one point, and those soft pants are slung low around Castiel’s hips now. He is wearing a white t-shirt that he’d apparently had on underneath his fancy dress shirt for the entire day—“How in the hell weren’t you sweating like a pig?!” demands Dean—and Dean himself is wearing an old Metallica t-shirt and boxer briefs. He’d asked Cas if that was gonna be weird, but Castiel just stared at him and said slowly,

“Dean. I am wearing your sweatpants,” with such a ‘you dumbass’ look on his face that Dean can’t help laughing aloud. Now they’re both sitting in the bed—well, Dean is lying on top of the covers with his arms behind his head and Cas’s knees are pulled up underneath the sheets with a legal pad resting on top of them—but both of the men are comfortable all the same. “We need to have a couple of baseline questions for Ms. Lilith Lucitan tomorrow,” the ever-studious TA says. Dean rolls onto his side to look at Castiel.

“Okay. How about, ‘what the hell are you doing, trying to say Kevin and his mom had a strained relationship?’ or maybe ‘what the fuck is it gonna take to prove to the world that this kid is innocent?’ Does either one of those work?”

Castiel turns his head to look into Dean’s furious stormy eyes. “I will write them down,” he says. “And, Dean,” he bites his lower lip and looks back up to see that the other man has moved a lot closer to him, making his heart pound and the words that he had been about to say fly out of his head. Dean claps a hand on Cas’s shoulder in thanks for the simple understanding of his irascible ire and looks over the TA’s shoulder as he writes.

“You have really nice handwriting, Cas,” Dean comments, his breath warm on the other’s cheek. Castiel’s shoulder blade is digging into Dean’s upper chest and even though it’s the end of the day, he still smells strongly of that blue shaving cream or deodorant or whatever. This is the chance for Dean to find out more about it, like why it has such a strong effect on him and what the fuck it is. He will have to peek into Castiel’s toiletry bag while he’s asleep.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says. He cannot mask a shiver of delight when Dean’s hand reaches out to cover his own and lift the pad of paper slightly closer to his eyes.

“It’s pretty tiny, though.” Dean chuckles.

“Yes.” Castiel nods and then closes his eyes in disbelief. Oh, what has he just said? Nothing useful, nothing important; he’s trying to be the proactive investigative lawyer and all he can think about is Dean’s warmth behind him and how much he likes green eyes and freckles. And the fact that Dean’s Metallica shirt is rather tight, and those dark blue boxers…Castiel can feel himself start to blush. Dean had asked if he would mind Dean wearing them. Of COURSE he wouldn’t mind, but he’s pretty sure Dean would if he knew what Cas is thinking about at this precise moment. Dean is probably thinking objectively about this, like they’re brothers, goofing around in their underpants and holding hands and sitting REALLY close. Do brothers usually do that? He and his brothers hadn’t, but maybe Dean and Sam are different. Clearing his throat, Castiel shifts his shoulders to test the waters, and Dean moves—not away, though, just into a more comfortable position—and begins massaging Cas’s shoulder blades. His hands are strong and firm and steady, and he gets all of the cramps out of Castiel’s upper back before running his fingers up and down his spine. Cas groans. This is it; he can’t take it anymore. He’s just going to wing this and see where it goes. Putting down his pen and legal pad, Cas leans back into Dean, his arms bracing themselves in the sheets and blankets, fingers clutching the soft cotton and linen convulsively. Dean smirks as Castiel moans, tipping his head back and closing his eyes in ecstasy.

“Damn, you have a lot of tension in your back, Cas.” Dean kneads his fingers between and beneath Castiel’s vertebrae deftly, licking his lips and raising the back of Castiel’s shirt a little bit so that he can be sure to get out all of the kinks. He raises his eyebrows when Cas stretches out his arms and pulls the shirt the rest of the way over his head before shrugging and going back to work on the massage. Castiel’s skin is cool and smooth and Dean really likes touching it, letting his fingers knead the knots out of the sore muscles and hearing every contented grunt and sigh. He remembers doing this for Cassie when she’d had a hard day. She would sometimes massage Dean as well, if he’d pulled a muscle playing volleyball at a frat party after trying to channel Maverick and Goose and the Top Gun gang, tut-tutting at him disapprovingly all the while. She would stretch like a cat when he really got going on her, just the way Cas is doing now. Dean brings his fingers to cradle each side of the other man’s ribcage in order to massage his sides also. “Go ahead and turn around,” Dean whispers and Castiel does, with his muscles rippling slowly, before sitting cross-legged facing his masseur. “Ah-ah-ah, uncross those legs,” Dean says jauntily. He moves forward on his knees as Cas swallows and stretches his legs out to nestle on either side of Dean’s. Now they are extremely close to each other as Dean rubs down the front slopes of Castiel’s shoulders and the planes of his chest, the balls of his fingers pressing and pushing and stroking the muscles firmly. Castiel’s neck is ramrod-straight and Dean chuckles, raising his hands to cup Castiel’s face. “C’mon, loosen up a little, Cas,” he says, gently rubbing the little indented places below each ear and just behind the jaw. Castiel looks at him with oceans in his eyes, endless blue depths, and he squints as if he’s never seen anything quite like Dean before. Either that or he looks like he’s in a really bright light and is trying not to be blinded. When Castiel swallows, Dean notices the way his Adam’s apple bobs, dipping and then rising; swooping like the feeling that blooms in Dean’s own chest whenever he hears Cas speak. 

What is this feeling, so sudden and new? Dean has had crushes on people before, but Cassie has been his most serious relationship EVER, which is why he cannot comprehend losing her. But sitting across from Castiel now, here, Dean gets that same feeling—he doesn’t want to leave him behind either. If Cas were to say he wanted Dean to stay, he’d change his mind; Dean doesn’t want to know he will be walking away, maybe even with Cassie, if this wonderful man will willingly be his. Not knowing how to express this in words that wouldn’t completely freak his friend out, Dean simply leans forward and gives Castiel a kiss on the lips. This gesture fills Cas with such surprise that he doesn’t immediately kiss back, and Dean begins to withdraw quickly, afraid that he’s made a terrible mistake, that they should just stick to being friends—but then Castiel’s hand comes up to take hold of the back of Dean’s neck like a vise. Not holding him too tight, only firm enough to let Dean know that this kiss is, in fact, what Castiel wants—it is what he has wanted for a good while, but he didn’t want to come between Dean and Cassie, and so had not made the first move. He kisses Dean back now with fervor, a fierce need that causes Dean’s lips to quirk up in a smile before he returns the kiss, nibbling Cas’s lower lip before adding another tiny peck to his chin and leaning back. Castiel’s eyes take what seems like an eon to open, but when they do, their gaze is full of such adoration that Dean doesn’t know what to say or how best to respond. Not even Cassie has looked at him like that, as if he is the most precious thing in the world. It humbles and flusters him, causing him to blurt out stupidly, “Cas, I—just want you to know, man, that uh… none of that sort of thing ever happened between me and my brother when we stayed in places like this when we were younger.” Castiel stares at Dean, blinking bemusedly for a moment, and then he chuckles.

“Do not worry, Dean. I had no conception that the two of you would have ever done anything like that.”

“Good.” Dean blushes fiercely and shakes his head before putting an arm gently around Castiel’s back. “Because that would’ve been super awkward.” Castiel chuckles quietly and leans into Dean. The two of them fall asleep with Dean’s arm still around his shoulders. Castiel’s face has come to nestle against Dean’s chest and it is absurdly comforting to the Winchester. Both men sleep like babes in arms and gather their faculties together so as to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for the witness meeting in the morning.


	18. ~Scene 17~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwash from a heinous bitch

Lilith Lucitan gives off the wickedest, bitchiest vibe that Dean has ever come across, and he has met a lot of wicked bitches in his twenty-six years. She doesn’t even stand up to greet them, simply running her tongue over almost pointed teeth before taking out a tube of blood-red lipstick to touch up her mouth as the two men start to speak. Dean wants to grab her and shake her, or even punch her; and he is of the semi-chivalrous opinion that one should never hit a girl unless she definitely deserves it. But as far as he is concerned, this heinous bitch deserves it. 

She offhandedly assures them that she sees no point in testifying, since the little Tran twerp is going to be incarcerated without her help; however, she had come to understand that Kevin was a terrible child since she had moved into the house next door to him and his mother. She gives a lot of circumstantial evidence of the he-said she-said I-heard variety; which is cock and bull if you ask anybody with a law degree but gets eaten up by juries of peers with their heads so far up their asses that they can see their own small intestines. Dean knows this, and it makes him even more incensed when Lilith gives out all of these “examples” because there is always gonna be someone stupid enough to buy shit just like it that is packaged in shiny paper and tied with a bow. Prettily packaged shit still stinks, though.

“I heard that the Tran boy was quite a little prick—he never did anything on his own, always made his mother do everything for him; cook, clean—and when she didn’t do those things exactly right, he killed her.” This is so absurd that Dean closes his eyes in disbelief for a moment.

“You obviously don’t have or know anything about kids, Ms. Lucitan, because that’s how all of them work.” He hears Bobby’s gruff voice in his head: ‘Kids are supposed to eat your food and break your heart’. “What have you got against Kevin specifically?” Dean asks her heatedly, and Lilith looks at him with eyes so dark they are almost black.

“Oh, Dean, dear, nothing at all—this is just so much FUN!” she smiles and Castiel has to put a forcible hand upon Dean’s shoulder and use his other arm to encircle Dean’s chest as he moves toward this woman with murder in his eyes. “I only work with Crowley to find—special—people who can further our cause, our right to be human…to be here.”

“What the hell do you mean?” Dean spits out furiously, but Lilith only smiles with an expression on her face that neither of the men can comprehend. He leaves the meeting with the taste of bile rising in his throat. Castiel doesn’t look much better—his face is pale and set and hard, and he grabs Dean’s elbow as soon as they reach Baby.

“With what we’ve been given, Dean, we’ve both got to be driven as hell!”

“Damn straight.” Dean nods fiercely as he swings himself into the driver’s seat. “Get in, Cas. We’ve got work to do.” After both of them buckle up, the Impala roars out of the service station parking lot and the needle of her speedometer doesn’t dip below 80 for the entire drive back to the hotel. Dean has never before been this driven (haha) to get started on research.


	19. ~Scene 18~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What makes a lawyer

Later that week, after a dizzying day of listening to witness reports—the first cops to arrive on the scene, a couple of neighbors (noticeably not Lilith, Dean disgustedly grouses), and even a psychoanalyst who came up with a very thorough explanation of what kind of person Kevin was to have placed the pieces of his mother’s body in such a way. Dean almost leaps over the witness stand to strangle the man, and Crowley sharply tells him to come to the lawyer’s office that evening. Dean’s stomach sinks and Cassie gives him a look of compassion as he settles back into his seat. Ruby and Meg both smirk and make sarcastic ass-kissing gestures, to which he replies by flipping them the bird before slicing one finger across his throat. They seem slightly less amused after that.

When he gets to his professor’s door after a long day in the courtroom, Dean takes an enormous gulp of air, smooths down his tie, and straightens his suit jacket before rapping on the dark wood. “Come in,” Crowley calls out, and Dean’s heart begins to pound.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Dean says, feeling as if his voice is a lot higher than usual. There is no sign of Castiel, only Crowley leaning back in a leather chair and holding some sort of fruity drink with an umbrella in his hand.

“Ah, that’s the ticket,” he sighs after taking a sip. “Oh yes, come in, Dean! Close the door behind you. Would you care for a drink?”

“No thanks, I’m still on the clock.” The professor chuckles as Dean stands uncomfortably to one side. “Um, where is Cas?” Crowley’s eyebrow rises.

“Castiel? He went on an errand for me. I wanted to speak to you alone. Well sit down, boy,” he adds sharply. “I don’t want to crane my neck up at you. It’s been an interminable day.”

“Sorry.” Dean pulls at the creases in his pants and sits down on the very front edge of the chair across from Crowley. “Look sir, are you upset with me about today? Or about not giving you Kevin’s alibi? Because I thought I was clear—”

“Yes yes, you were perfectly clear.” The professor sighs through his nose. “You stuck to your guns and knew your stuff intuitively. I wanted to say,” He takes a breath as if he has never said such a thing to an intern before: “smashing job.”

“Oh.” Dean is caught way off-guard. He hadn’t ever expected his professor to say THAT. But the Brit isn’t done. He takes another sip of his girly drink before placing it on a side table. 

“Intuition and initiative make a good lawyer. You have both of those traits in abundance, Dean. And you gained the client’s trust—that’s what makes a GREAT lawyer.” Crowley shifts to sit up straight in his chair and Dean suddenly finds him incredibly intimidating—well, even more so than usual. “Do you know what competition is about?” he asks, softly, dangerously. Dean shakes his head and swallows hard. The warm glow in his chest from Crowley’s compliment has already begun to fade. “The carnage and bloodshed; balancing human intellect with animalistic diligence. Knowing exactly what you want and how far you are willing to go to get it.” Crowley leans forward, somehow managing to dominate and fill the entire room with his presence. Dean feels a spear of ice shoot into and take root in his belly, and he is sure that he won’t like what his professor says next. “Work with me, Dean. We can use Kevin; he has got special intellectual power—you saw it. I need you to keep his trust so that we can get what we need from him.” Dean’s stomach drops into his shoes.

“And what is it we need from him, Crowley?” Crowley grins, and it’s more of a baring of teeth than his typical charming smile.

“His money, of course. And he has other gifts—a seventeen-year-old with that much intelligence could be useful. If he loses his case and is put in jail, no big deal—that will make it easier for me to question him and hear what things are like on the inside. We can rule his soul.” Dean feels like he’s going to be sick. Sam, who had come to the door to ask the professor a question, now strides quickly away, the wheels in his head turning and his strong jaw jutting out as his hazel eyes harden. He had thought that Dean was better than this. Now he sees that he was wrong, and any hope he had for his big brother is gone.

Dean has stood up and stares incredulously at Crowley.

“Are you freaking serious??? Exploiting a kid’s intelligence so that you can work the system?! What the hell is wrong with you?” Crowley’s face doesn’t change.

“I thought you understood how to take initiative, Dean. That you wanted to be a lawyer.” Dean shakes his head vehemently, the blood pounding in his ears.

“No. not this kind of lawyer. And I especially don’t want to intern for a teacher who is such a pathetic asshole.” He storms out of Crowley’s office, eyes wide and full of tears, both hands clasped behind his head as he waits for the elevator. His night gets even worse when Sam comes up to him and slams him by his shoulders into the wall.

“I thought you were on the straight and narrow now, Dean! That you knew the stakes—saw right from wrong…I thought I could trust you! I can’t believe I fell for your act.” He lets go of his older brother with a hard shove and turns away. Dean can see the tears filling his younger brother’s eyes and his own resolve not to cry begins to crack.

“Sammy—”

“No. Don’t, Dean. Just—go. And don’t come back.” Sam quickens his pace now, large shoulders slumping as he shoves his hands deep in his pockets, and his giant footsteps echo as he clomps quickly down the hall. Sam obviously doesn’t know how far Dean will go, but Dean does. He won’t help Crowley exploit Kevin Tran. He can’t do this internship or the whole entire thing. He’s through with law school. The elevator is here now and it silently descends to the lobby where, dammit, Castiel is walking past the front desk. His eyes light up when he spots Dean. There is a literal bounce in his step as he comes over.

“Hello, Dean,” he says, that wonderful voice making Dean’s eyes shut tight and a jolt of fire and then of ice pass through his gut. He has to do this. If he’s serious about putting all of this bullshit behind him, he has to leave Cas behind too. When Dean’s eyes open and he nods hello in response, Castiel realizes something is very wrong. “What is it?” he asks, stepping closer, way into the other man’s personal space, but Dean doesn’t back away. He needs this—for a second, a brief, beautiful second—he feels safe. Reaching out, Dean grasps the sleeve of Cas’s trench coat. But the moment is gone too soon, because Castiel asks, “Are you all right?” and Dean has to tell him the truth.

“No, Cas, I’m not. I can’t do it. Crowley asked me—ORDERED me—to exploit Kevin Tran.”

“WHAT?!?” Cas is shocked and horrified. His shock makes him completely still, except for his hands, which grab Dean’s arms and grip them tight. Castiel’s face goes blank and hard as he tries to make sense of the Winchester’s words. Dean nods, not willing to look directly at the other man.

“Yeah, in his office. A few minutes ago. He’s not gonna work that hard to free Kevin, because this kid is so smart he could be of great use to Crowley on the inside. In PRISON, Cas! The kid is seventeen years old! I can’t do it. I WON’T do it. I left, Sammy said to go, and I—” he is shaking now, the shock of it all pouring into him at once. The words Sam just said are pounding through Dean’s head and he gasps, a nearly silent sob, and Castiel is there, pulling Dean to him, wrapping his arms tight around his friend’s rather nice sport coat. One hand rises to cradle the back of Dean’s neck in a protective gesture, not quite the same as when he’d kissed Dean earlier that week in the roadside motel, but similar. Castiel takes in Dean’s dapper attire sadly and thinks back over the clothes his friend has worn this past week. He had dressed up for this occasion and bought suits because he cared, because he wanted to look professional and do this job well. Dean closes his eyes and presses his face into Cas’s shoulder and neck as his own arms clutch his friend’s back.

“Oh, Dean.” Cas strokes Dean’s hair deftly and firmly, his hand rubbing upward from the nape of Dean’s neck to the crown of his head. Christ, it feels good. “I am sorry.”

“I have to leave, Cas,” Dean’s voice is muffled in the cream coat and his warm breath ghosts over Castiel’s skin as he chokes these words out. “And it’s not your fault, but I have to go.” Castiel stiffens and draws slightly away. Dean catches a whiff of that cool blue clean smelling cologne or aftershave or whatever it is that the TA wears—he hadn’t managed to figure out its name when they were in the hotel together—and damn, it’s driving him crazy. Dean sways back in, needing that strength and comfort from Castiel again, yearning for Cas to take his face in his hands and tell him with eyes and lips what he means, that he can’t leave, that they will fix this…Dean is shocked back to reality as Castiel fiercely tightens his hands around Dean’s arms once more and says,

“No, Dean, you can’t go. Just—you know what, the hell with Crowley!” he says loudly, having picked up a few of Dean’s sayings in the time they have spent together. Several people on the other side of the lobby look over at the two of them in shock. Cas lowers his voice. “We can figure this out. I will figure it out. Please stay.” There is such open NEED in the TA’s voice when he says this that Dean feels a sharp pain tear through his chest. He can’t. He has principles. He cannot go back on them, even for a wonderful soft-spoken kind man with gorgeous eyes and a voice like soothing sandpaper; who listens raptly and makes Dean feel like the most precious thing on God’s green Earth; whose dark hair is so impossibly soft and whose lips would feel so damn good pressed to his own right now… Dean at last raises his eyes to Castiel’s, unsure if he’s telegraphing any of this or if he just looks lost.

Cas sees it. He has always seen it, the lost look behind Dean’s desperate bravado. It is a look of need as well, though. So much need. He wants so badly to be able to cater to that need and fill Dean’s void by articulating the words: ‘Crowley does not matter. None of the rest of these things matter. You will be able to fix things with Sam because he is your brother. Just stay here for me, please. I love you.’ The words lodge in Castiel’s throat as he swallows, though, and Dean’s expression is impossibly empty and sad when he says

“Look me up if you ever get to Cali, okay?”


	20. ~Scene 19~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...You're not the man I thought you were, Dean Winchester."

“Dammit, no one’s ever gonna take me seriously, Bobby. All they see when they look at me is a party loving wise-ass. Cassie doesn’t believe in me, and neither does my own brother.” He clears his throat and wipes his eyes furiously. “I don’t know—interning for Crowley, I just felt like, for the first time, someone expected me to do something more with my life than just be a car mechanic. But now…” Dean squares his shoulders and looks around defiantly. “To hell with law school! I just came back here to say goodbye.” Bobby Singer doesn’t speak; he simply enfolds the younger man in his arms in an enveloping hug.

“Oh please. If you’re going to let one stupid prick ruin your life, then you’re not the man I thought you were, Dean Winchester.” Ellen Harvelle stands up from the chair where her hair was being dressed by Jo, and Dean whips around to stare at her. Bobby has gripped Dean’s shoulders to stop him from exiting back the way he’d come, which is a real danger at this precise moment. Ellen comes around to stand in front of Dean, yet he now refuses to make direct eye contact with her. “Look at me, Dean,” Ellen says finally, and Dean raises his green eyes to hers. There is warmth and compassion filling them and her daughter has a sweet smile on her face. “What are you waiting for?” his professor says softly, reaching out and touching his cheek in a tender mother-like gesture. “You know what you need to do.”

Dean does. The wheels in his head have started turning—WHY was Crowley so pushy about Kevin remaining in prison? He’s had a few other high-profile cases, and he’s such a good attorney that he should be able to work with a lot of people. Why is KEVIN so important? What is it about owning the kid’s SOUL? Dean really likes Kevin, but he wonders exactly what kinds of intellectual ‘gifts’ Crowley was talking about. He has to find out. What about the red-eyed thing Kevin saw and those words Lilith said, about working with Crowley to find special people to further their cause? Dean waves and nods at his professor and friends before jogging out of Bobby’s spa and putting his phone to his ear. “Hey Garth, it’s Dean. Yeah I’m okay now, thanks, man. Listen, I need your help.” After detailing his needs, Dean makes another call. “Hey Charlie, do you think you can do something for me? Yeah, it’s important. Thanks. You might want to get in touch with Victor too. I have a feeling I’m gonna need his expertise.”


	21. ~Scene 20~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We have to fix this."

“Is he always such an ass?” Kevin finally asks, speaking for the first time, after watching Crowley’s smug speech to the tons of reporters clustered in front of the courthouse earlier that afternoon. It is playing on the single twelve-inch television in the prison’s visiting room. Sam snorts and Castiel says,

“He is one of the top defense attorneys in this state as well as the entire country. Of course he is an ass.”

“Well he’d better do something amazing to get me exonerated after how much I’m paying for him.” Kevin sighs. “There goes my college tuition.” 

“Well, he and Dean seemed pretty close to coming up with something last night.” Sam says bitterly with a snide tone of voice and a look in his eyes that Castiel never thought he would hear or see from the younger Winchester brother. So it is nothing for him to squint angrily at Sam and snap out,

“No, Sam, you have no idea what you are talking about.” Sam looks up, shocked at that, but his expression is still mulish when his eyes meet Castiel’s. Kevin has noticed this and is looking back and forth between the two of them in confused desperation.

“Hang on, guys, is there something I should know about all this? Where IS Dean, anyway? He’s usually the first one to get here to visit me.” 

“Dean made the decision to leave last night after Crowley tried to enlist him to use the trust he has with you to his personal advantage. Crowley wants someone he can pump for information inside the high-profile adult prison. Dean flat-out refused and checked out of the hotel first thing this morning.”

“Oh,” Sam’s eyes have closed in dismay.

“What a scumbag,” Kevin hisses. Castiel nods firmly in wordless assent. Sam still looks horrified and repulsed, shaking his head with his eyes closed tightly.

“Oh God,” he chokes out. “I’m so stupid.”

“What?” Kevin asks.

“I talked to Dean…said some things that I—oh man, he’s never going to forgive me.”

“But we have to get him back,” Kevin says urgently. “We have to fix this.”

“I believe I know a way,” Castiel says slowly. “And Sam, he will forgive you if you apologize and give him the chance. He is your brother. You two may be a little rough around the edges, but you are the best men I’ve ever known.”


	22. ~Scene 21~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To win a case...

The room is full and noisy as people clear their throats and reporters jostle for prime positions along the back walls. The honorable judge Missouri Moseley is glaring balefully at the reporters who fill her courtroom like carrion birds that pick corpses clean. They’re eating up this horrible case like it’s an unattended bowl of chips on a coffee table. The Judge has never liked reporters; she likes them even less now as their eyes hungrily follow Kevin Tran’s miniscule skinny body into his seat beside the hulking defense attorney—J. F. Crowley. Something about that man has never sat right with Judge Moseley. She can’t quite put her finger on it, but he looks almost…smug. That’s it. The expression that has been on his face for the majority of the trial, and that is camped on his features at this exact moment, is not one of studious concern on behalf of his client. No, he looks AMUSED by all of the reporters clamoring to get a view of the kid murderer. Who will end up turning eighteen before all of this rigmarole ends, thinks Missouri. If he is found innocent, no problem. But if the jury believes he is guilty…he will be spending the rest of his life in an adult men’s prison. She gets a good psychic feeling from the kid. He has spoken eloquently in his statements so far—quiet yet steady in claiming that he didn’t kill his mother. Judge Moseley has seen killers. She does not think Kevin Tran is one of them. Whether Crowley will try his utmost to prove that, she is less sure. The defense attorney loves pageantry. He exhibits this hamartia expertly right now, giving a small wave to the reporters who have gone into a flashbulb frenzy as he stands and straightens his coat. 

Just as he is about to speak, the double doors at the rear of the room burst open and behind them stands Crowley’s younger research assistant—he is framed excellently in the light of the hallway, wearing his signature trench coat and dark suit with a royal blue tie. Castiel, the Judge remembers him being called. Castiel L’Angelo. Brilliant mind and decent heart…which makes it difficult for the judge to comprehend just why he would want to be CROWLEY’S assistant. Behind this young man stride two others, the third man in line half-a-head taller than his brother before him. For they are brothers, the perceptive judge can easily see that. The center one walks with swagger, as if he is brimming over with confidence; attempting to exude the seasoned surety of Gregory Peck's Atticus Finch and the suave emotional sex appeal of Matthew McConaughey's Jake Brigance, but she can tell that is just a mask. He is extremely insecure as well as nervous. The third man in line, obviously several years younger, has an aura of togetherness and quiet confidence in his own abilities, but he is willing to let his less sure older brother take the lead. Interesting; she watches calmly to see how this all plays out.

“Dean. I thought you had abandoned ship,” Counselor Crowley purrs when the three men halt next to him, before Castiel moves to take his seat on the other side of Kevin and Sam steps behind the railing to sit next to Cassie in the first row. “It is good to have you back.” Dean looks at his professor with a superior smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah. Good for Kevin and me, but not for you.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Crowley replies flatly. He turns to look at Kevin.

“I’ll tell you what he means,” Kevin says shortly. “Get up. You’re fired.”

“What?”

“You are fired. I have new representation,” Kevin says louder and there are the clicks of many fountain pens. “I am firing James Crowley as my attorney and appointing Dean Winchester in his place.” The courtroom begins to buzz.

“Seriously?! Is he allowed to do that in the middle of a trial?”

“Who cares? Things are finally getting interesting.”

“This is better than Judge Judy!”

“You little swine,” Crowley hisses at Dean. “How do you think you’re going to get away with this?! I am your professor. I taught you everything you know.” To Kevin with a sneer: “He’s a law STUDENT. He can’t defend you.” Kevin doesn’t deign to reply. Dean, however, clears his throat and moves a bit closer to the lawyer’s chair.

“Oh really? That’s funny. Maybe you need to be reminded of the rules. Sammy?” Sam grins at Dean and leans forward over the wooden rail, opening a bookmarked leather-bound book that Garth has just handed to him. 

“So get this: Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court Rule 3:03.” Dean smiles angelically at Crowley.

“See?” Crowley makes a threatening movement, but checks it when Judge Moseley raps out,

“Counselors, approach the bench.” Dean maneuvers around Crowley and the table to head up towards the judge. Crowley stops him with a hand on his chest.

“You’re not going up there.”

“Yes, I am.” From his seat at the table for the defense, Kevin calls out,

“I don’t think you heard me, Crowley. You. Are. Fired. Dean is now my lawyer.”

“Counselors, NOW!” Judge Moseley barks and bangs her gavel. “ALL of you.” The DA, who had been silently watching the little drama unfold, is the first to make it up front. Dean takes the book away from his brother and brings it to the judge, Castiel a few paces behind him. Dean gives Missouri his most charming smile.

“Dean Winchester, Your Honor. Rule 3:03 of the Supreme Judicial Court states that a law student may appear on behalf of a defendant in criminal proceedings.” The DA tries really hard not to grin, but cannot help being stoked nevertheless.

“I have no problem with this.”

“I do,” Crowley says flatly. “I’m not allowing it.”

“Oh but you agreed last night in your office, remember? When we were discussing my career as a lawyer? Animalistic instincts and all that?” Dean says pointedly to his professor. The judge has turned the leather tome to face her and is reading over the ruling.

“Hang on there, bucko,” she says to Dean. “Don’t get too cocky. The ruling also states that you need a licensed attorney to supervise you. Counselor Crowley?” Everyone is silent. The reporters lean forward, hanging on for Crowley’s next words.

“No. That I won’t agree to.” He gives Dean a smirk and a triumphant little glance after saying this. Then there is the sound of a throat clearing, and Castiel steps forward.

“I will be supervising, Your Honor.” Crowley’s eyes bulge. He is totally bamboozled and derailed at this turn of events, staring at his assistant in betrayed shock. Dean smiles.

“Well then, Mr. Winchester,” the judge extends her arm to gesture Dean towards the now empty seat at Kevin’s table. “You may proceed.” Dean strides back to the table jauntily, nodding to Garth in appreciation and spotting Cassie, who is sitting next to him and looks both impressed and totally stunned. He winks at her.

“Oh, and you may want to stick around, Counselor,” Dean calls after Crowley’s retreating back. “Today’s session is going to be interesting!”

“It will be, at that.” Crowley growls and finds a seat several rows behind the rest of the interns. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

Judge Moseley calls for quiet, and once the murmurs at last subside she nods at the DA to begin the prosecution of Kevin Tran. Just as the DA opens her mouth to speak, the doors burst open once again and in come three more people—an energetic pixie-like redhead, a muscle-bound man with a gaze so direct it looks like he is made of stone (a guardian of an Ancient Egyptian pharaoh who has absolutely no problem with cutting someone’s head off), and a tall bearlike man wearing a newsboy hat which he immediately takes off in an attempt to be respectful. This is slightly overshadowed by Charlie’s excited squeal as soon as she spots Dean.

“DEAN!!! Ohmygosh this is really happening! It’s just like the movies!! We’re in a real courtroom with a judge and jury and everything!!!”

“Sit down, please, and close your mouth if you are not part of the court’s proceedings. YOU are not a student of law, are you?” The judge stares Charlie down, making her pale skin grow even paler.

“N-no, ma’am. We’re just his friends. I’m Charlie Bradbury, and this is Victor Henrikson and Benny Lafitte.” She gestures first at the stony individual, and then at the bearlike man.

“Pleasure. Now SIT DOWN, all three of you!” The Judge barks out at them all. “Now, to continue…” The DA asks Castiel some questions about his and Dean’s meeting with Lilith Lucitan, and then Dean privately asks the judge if he can call Crowley to the stand.

“Do you have a reason for doing so that has something to do with this case? I understand wanting to make a fool out of him, he’s that sort of man, but wasting this court’s time is inadvisable.”

“No ma’am, I won’t be wasting the court’s time.” Dean stares seriously at her, and Judge Moseley sees nothing dishonest on his face or in his aura.

“All right then. The court calls James Fergus Crowley to the witness stand!” The courtroom crowd oohs at this and Cassie feels as if she is going to pass out on the floor. That would be rather undignified of her; she has never fainted in her life, but what is Dean DOING?? Sam turns to her as she clutches his arm and assures her that his brother has everything in hand. Cassie bites her lip until she tastes blood and prays that her former boyfriend has completely thought this out.

Crowley swaggers up to the stand and looks at Dean with superiority and pity as he takes the oath. “You have no idea what you’re getting into, do you?” he purrs. “I OWN this courtroom. Everything that could possibly happen in this place is known to me. Do you think you can come up with anything that I haven’t seen before?” Dean doesn’t answer; he walks back to the defendant table and turns on a dime, once more facing his professor.

“Why was defending Kevin’s case so important to you?”

“I didn’t want to see an innocent child go to prison. It’s a waste of pure talent.” Crowley makes this reply as if it is perfectly obvious. Playing the sympathetic mentor card to the hilt, Dean thinks sourly. Brilliant.

“What sort of talent does Kevin have?”

“He is prescient.”

“Don’t you mean intelligent?” Crowley sneers at Dean.

“No. I mean prescient. P-R-E-S-C-I-E-N-T, Mr. Winchester. Look it up. No wonder you never got above a seventy percent on any of my vocabulary exams!” There are titters from the audience. Dean ignores them.

“Mr. Winchester, a dictionary, if you please.” All eyes turn to Sam as he hefts another heavy book over the wooden partition dividing the courtroom. “Cas, would you take that from him?” Castiel rises and accepts the tome from Sam. He strides over to the table next to Dean and bangs the book open. 

“Do that a little louder, chap, and you’ll wake up my grandmother. She’s been dead for thirty years.” Snarks the lawyer and the crowd howls. Everybody loves a comedian. Dean ignores him, looking over Cas’s shoulder as he carefully searches for the word.

“Here it is: prescient: ‘having foreknowledge or foresight. Perhaps in spite of his delicately prescient anxiety not to, he had pressed him too far’. Is this what you meant when you used the word prescient?” Crowley rolls his eyes and speaks in the direction of Sam, who has returned to his seat in the first row.

“Well done with the dictionary, Moose, but since Squirrel’s questions are similar to those on a tenth-grade spelling bee, I would posit that my extensive vocabulary was wasted on him.” Dean sets his jaw. Crowley isn’t going to get the better of him; he won’t allow it. As if he has heard and agrees with this thought, Castiel places his hand firmly on Dean’s shoulder and squeezes it before taking the dictionary and retreating. Dean gazes gratefully after him before taking a breath to quash his mounting anxiety and continuing with the questions.

“Why would this aspect of Kevin’s intelligence make you so eager to defend him?”

“Heaven help me, I’m dealing with a simpleton. Why do you THINK I’d be eager, Dean?” The twenty-six-year-old’s eyes have gone hard.

“Humor me.” 

“He would be invaluable for a number of reasons—predicting natural disasters, outcomes of elections, winning lottery tickets, you name it. I was interested in him because he could let me know of any new case that was fixing to come to light; that way I could snatch up clients before any of the other morons knew what was happening.”

“So you were planning on using him,” is Dean’s reply. Crowley rolls his eyes.

“Oh, please. He’d be doing me a favor, really. It would be a good one, after I’d get done defending him. If he won his case or lost, either way that would be my payment.”

“And if he lost, he’d be stuck in jail, and it’d be a hell of a lot easier for you to blackmail him if he was in there, correct?” Crowley taps the side of his nose with a finger, looking rather like a demonic debonair Santa.

“Now that would just be diaBOLical of me. Is that really a depth I would stoop to, do you think?” 

“YOU dismembered Kevin’s mother and put the blame on him!!” Dean nearly screams in rage, ready to leap over the podium and pound his fists into Crowley’s smug face, but at the last second he remembers Sam telling him that he needs to be professional in order to help Kevin. Tamping down his wrath only a little, so it lodges like a habanero pepper or hot coal in his throat, Dean stares his professor down. Everyone in the courtroom holds their breath; reporters lean forward, wide-eyed. Judge Moseley’s face remains impassive, but Castiel can tell her expressionless state is a cheap carnival mask, and it is slowly slipping as Dean once more outlines the evidence and pictures from the murder in this new light. There are several retching sounds from the jury box as well as from a few people in the audience. Charlie turns her head and buries it in Benny’s coat as Victor leans forward, clenching a fist, urging his friend on.

Dean is on a roll. “YOU enlisted Lilith to bear witness to what a little shit Kevin was, and you thought everyone on the jury would be stupid enough to believe her. That I would be stupid enough as well. But you forgot who’s been teaching me these past months. Professor Harvelle knows her stuff—I’m really glad I went back to her class. You were SO CERTAIN that no one could follow your convoluted tracks that you forgot to keep your incredible TA out of your office, you pompous ass.” Dean strides to the evidence table and picks up a bag in which there are some papers that look suspiciously like suburb maps, and another which holds blueprints. “Exhibits A and B: the suburban neighborhood around the Tran house and the layout of the house itself so that you would be able to gain access to it without any of the neighbors being alerted. And this,” he holds up a third evidence bag where there rests a CD-ROM, “is the copy of the Trans’ home security system, which automatically records any activity inside the house after its perimeter has been breached. Lucky for us, your computer skills aren’t nearly as good as my brother’s. It was a cinch for Sam to see that the original tape had been tampered with. All we needed was a warrant.”

“And there is the fatal flaw in your examination,” says Crowley smugly, leaning back in the witness chair and twiddling his thumbs. “You needed my permission to serve a warrant on my office, and I know for a fact that I didn’t sign off on one.”

“Oh yeah?” smiles Dean. “Castiel, would you hand me Exhibit D, please?” The TA nods and stands, striding over to the evidence table and taking a fourth clear bag which he then hands to the law student. “Now, Mr. Crowley,” Dean says, bringing the bag to the stand and speaking with faux politeness, “I would like you to tell the court if this is, in fact, your signature.” Crowley snaps the bag out of Dean’s hands, smug, triumphant, but the color drains from his face as he studies the contents of it.

“This—this is impossible! Preposterous! How did you get it?”

“Sam handed it to you with your morning coffee and the rest of your paperwork, after you taunted him about me being a no-account hack. He actually said to you, what was it, Sammy? Oh yeah: ‘Here’s a warrant for you to sign, sir’ and you were so carried away by your cruelty that you single-handedly threw your life away.” Crowley’s face has now become purple with impotent ire and he has started to sweat. “Poor man. After all, it’s all down to the people you know, and one of my best friends happens to be training as a federal police officer.” Dean points out Victor, who gives the room at large a jaunty wave. Crowley bellows out,

“Mrs. Tran wasn’t meant to be the victim at all! I had been lying in wait to capture Kevin!!! How was I to know that she conducted business from home?! She startled me and I had to improvise!” There is an instant of complete, profound silence. Dean turns his stunned gaze to Cas, whose eyes have started to dance.

“Oh my God,” whispers Cassie.

“Oh my God,” Charlie says. 

“Oh, my God!” Sam yells out. “Dean—you did it!” The entire ensemble begins to buzz. Judge Moseley bangs her gavel.

“The evidence doesn’t lie! A confession has been forced! James Fergus Crowley will be held in the state prison without bond for attempted kidnapping and murder in the first degree. Case dismissed. Officers, get that sorry piece of flesh out of my sight.” The room erupts in whistles and cheers. 

“I don’t envy you one bit,” Dean leans in to mutter to his professor as two officers come to lead the attorney away. “I imagine this little stunt has already been circulating the prisons ‘cause this is such a high-profile case, and since a lot of the cons around here were your old clients…well, they know what you planned to do to Kevin and I imagine that same thing was done to some of them.” He smiles at Crowley. Then, turning, he spots Bobby and Jody (the click and wink must’ve actually worked, holy shit) and Ellen and Jo as well, all of them beaming at him from the back of the room. Ash is there too; he gives Dean a respectful nod and a thumbs-up.


	23. ~Scene 22~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Endings and beginnings

Dean pushes his way between the bodies of reporters and spectators and lawyers back to the defense table. Kevin, whose arms have just been released from his manacles, throws those thin appendages around Dean and laughs, breathless and over the moon. 

“I can’t believe it! We did it; we actually did it, Dean! I thought you would have to tell everyone my alibi but there was actual admissible evidence—that was amazing!!!” He is shaking like a leaf, and Dean gently takes hold of the youngster’s arms and extricates himself from them.

“Hell yeah little man—it was pretty amazing. Are you all right?” Kevin nods, tears streaming down his cheeks now, and the Winchester blinks rapidly as his own eyes fill. “Come on, Kevin. Any idiot could’ve put this shit together—it just happened to be me.” The young man shakes his head wordlessly. He doesn’t argue with Dean even though he knows that statement isn’t so—the word ‘idiot’ is the last thing to describe Dean Winchester.

“I’ll get you the check for this session, Dean. Should I just send it to Harvard?”

“No, you should send it to nowhere because that’s your college money, kid! This case is pro bono for me!” Kevin tries to disagree, but the law student shushes him. “Tell you what—buy me a beer at The Roadhouse tonight and we’ll call it even.” Kevin grins at him and wipes his nose on the sleeve of the giant orange jumpsuit he is still wearing.

“A beer? I’ll be buying you six or seven!” He steps through the little wooden gate as Sam and Castiel beckon that the reporters want to get a follow-up interview after the announcement of Kevin’s freedom and Crowley’s incarceration. “I’ll see you later then. And Dean, thanks. For everything.” The young man is ushered down the isle of the courtroom and the crowd parts before him like the Red Sea, due to Sam and Cas guiding the way. Dean looks up after gathering all of his papers to see Cassie standing beside the giant wooden courtroom doors, looking determined and beautiful and so small compared to the remnants of that mighty carved oak tree swinging open and shut behind her. Dean smiles and walks over to her. She looks up at him, wearing a defiant expression on her face that masks her deeper emotions. Dean has finally figured it out; he remembers what Charlie had said to him his first week at Harvard—about him needing to be there for Cassie in whatever way he could, because she loved him still. Everyone around me is so fucking smart, Dean thinks. I just have to take my time to learn all this shit that everybody else already knows. He stops in front of the beautiful girl, and Cassie says,

“You were amazing, Dean. That was so great the way you forced Professor Crowley to confess all of his nefarious deeds. I still can’t quite believe he did it, but the evidence doesn’t lie.” She says this quietly, her curls bouncing around her face as she shakes her head slowly. Dean smiles and puts his hands in his coat pockets. “I didn’t believe that it was possible for you to be serious about anything, but now…I see that I was wrong; you are serious about this, about doing good for people like Kevin. And I’m sorry for thinking less of you than you deserved. I was just trying to figure my own life out. Now I have, and…if you still want to be together, I would be happy to give us another shot. You’re the only guy for me.”

Dean coughs, rubs his hand across his face, and clears his throat. “Thanks, Cassie. I appreciate your apology, but you know—you were right. I never tried to be serious about anything until you were gone. And that’s not a good way to be. I know that now. You have your own life, your own dreams and goals—and I don’t think I can be a part of that—I’m not the right guy for it. You’ve got your own story to write, Cassie. And I don’t think I’m meant to be a star player in it, but I’ll be the first in line for a signed copy of your book.” He grins with his green eyes luminous and bright. Cassie blinks a few times and looks closely into Dean’s face.

“Are you sure, Dean? I think you kind of got confused with that metaphor,” she says teasingly, and they both start to laugh.

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure, Cassie. You have a fantastic life ahead of you, and since I’m not the perfect choice, you can feel free to spend it with Sam or whoever.” Cassie looks at him with confusion writ on every feature of her face.

“Spend it with Sam? Dean, I think you’re a little confused. I said I was in love with you, which is true. I wasn’t just saying that because of what you did, even though exonerating Kevin IS both sexy AND amazing…” She grins flirtily at him before becoming serious again. “Sam and I are just good friends, that’s all. He’s already got a girlfriend back at Stanford—Jessica Moore. They’re pretty serious; living together and everything. He told me he was even contemplating popping the question.” She focuses on Dean, whose eyes have widened and mouth has pursed in surprise. “Did he really not tell you?” Dean coughs again and looks at the floor.

“No, he didn’t. We’ve got a few things to work out between us, my baby brother and me.” Cassandra Robinson nods in agreement. At that moment Dean spies Sam over her shoulder stopping to talk to Cas and Garth and decides to remedy his previous silence right now. “I’ll see you around, Cassie,” Dean gives her a true smile, with the crow’s feet appearing at the corners of his eyes and softness suffusing his face. He reaches out and takes hold of Cassie in a hug, his face nestled next to hers for a moment before she kisses his cheek and gives him a gentle shove in the small of his back so that he will go and talk to Sam. “Hey Sammy!” Dean says, slapping his little brother on the back in excitement. “What a day, huh?” Sam grins. “Hey, can I talk to ya for a sec?” Dean asks.

“Just a minute, guys.” Sam tells Castiel and Garth. He turns to face Dean. The huff of breath escaping his nose makes his entire bulk seem to settle and his eyes flicker around the hall before focusing on his brother’s as the two of them move a little way apart from the others. “Hey, Dean. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to thank you, man. Your research actually really helped the case today. I guess the fact that you’re such a gigantic nerd isn’t so bad.” Sam shoves him and Dean grows serious. “I couldn’t’ve done any of this without you.”

“No, Dean, you couldn’t have done it without Cas,” Sam points out. “He’s the one who really put everything together.” Dean sighs heavily.

“Look, man, are you gonna let me apologize to you, or what?” Sam’s eyes widen.

“Why do YOU need to apologize?! Dean, I basically forced you to leave when you were already willing to do the right thing! I said those terrible things to you—just like Dad did to me. I told you to go and not to come back! You can’t just overlook that.” Sam now has tears in his eyes and his lips are pressed together in a pale line of grief and anxiety. Dean can hardly keep himself from rolling his eyes. He reaches up and puts both hands firmly on his gargantuan brother’s shoulders.

“Listen to me, Sammy. You had every reason to think that way based on the stuff you heard in my conversation with Crowley. And since I didn’t stick up for you to Dad after you got a full ride to Stanford at eighteen, you didn’t have any basis for thinking I’d do the right thing now when I didn’t do it then.” Sam seems like he’s about to say something, but Dean gives his shoulders a slight shake. “Let me finish, man. I was torn up when you went away to school. Oh yeah, but I was proud of you too. I never really told you that. I was, though, and I still am. You’re the smartest person I know, Sam. Don’t tell Cassie, okay?” Sam chuckles, his eyes bright and shining with gladness that his big brother is willing to articulate all of these feelings. “But I missed you like hell and I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me because I was always taking sides with Dad. Well, that day, when you left, that’s when I learned better—and I did the same thing a few months later. Doing that doesn’t fix anything that broke when you left, little brother, but maybe it taught Dad something. Like it taught me. Sometimes you’ve gotta do what’s best for you, even if it hurts the people you love.” Dean’s voice is now trembling as he tries desperately not to cry, and Sam reaches out and gathers his big brother close in a tight bear hug. He clears his throat and pats his older brother on the cheek after they break apart.

“Thanks, Dean.” That’s all he can say and all that he needs to say for the moment. These brothers look into each other’s eyes and they know; they remember all of those crazy code games they’d played as kids and they realize that the bond they formed back then is now stronger than ever. Dean pushes back and claps the outsides of Sam’s upper arms in finality. “I’m gonna go talk to Garth,” Sam says, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder. “Maybe you should say something to Cas…?” he phrases this almost as a question. The man in the trench coat is unobtrusively waiting behind them as if he has gotten up the nerve and intent to speak to Dean. Dean grunts.

“Right you are, brother. Astute as always.” He turns and nods before striding over to Castiel. “Howdy, pardner! We’ve done it; now’s our chance to grab our horses and ride off into the sunset.” Tilting his head with that squinty expression on his face that will always and forever be adorable, Cas says,

“I do not understand that reference, Dean. But yes, we have done it. Or rather, YOU have done it. You have set an innocent man free and condemned a guilty one in your very first case as a lawyer. How do you feel about that, Dean Winchester?” Dean lets out a husky laugh.

“You almost sound like a reporter, Cas. I’m…kinda numb, I guess. I can’t really believe that I did it, that I was smart enough to do it. After a couple beers and a shot of tequila I think I’ll figure out what right now I’m missin’.” He grins at the no-longer teaching assistant. “You’re welcome to join me if you’d like. I definitely owe you a drink.” Castiel smiles softly and looks at him in such a way that Dean knows precisely what he is about to say.

“What about Cassie?” 

“We talked things over and we’re done. Finished, kaput. That isn’t the right word, though,” Dean muses. “Sammy could probably say it better, but I think our ending was just the threshold for some new beginnings.” He reaches out and threads his fingers through Cas’s. “Whaddaya say to that, Cas?”

“I like new beginnings,” Castiel says quietly, his eyes widening and his manner becoming flustered the instant Dean touches him.

“Good,” Dean says quietly, stepping all the way in to whisper into and then nip the edge of Castiel’s ear. “Because I think this is gonna be the start of one helluva story.”

[Blackout]


	24. ~~~Credits Roll~~~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue at the Roadhouse (like that scene in The Avengers after the credits)

Ellen’s eating establishment is full that night; it seems everyone in town to watch or participate in Kevin’s court proceedings had the same idea for the perfect place to eat afterwards. Not that this bothers the Harvelles and co. On the contrary: Ash is in his element, mixing and serving drinks with a flair and a flip of his mullet; Jo is bouncing from table to table unable to contain a brilliant grin; and Ellen has given herself the status of maître’d, inviting people in and finding them tables. Dean’s group is probably the largest in the room: it consists of Kevin, Sam, Cassie, Garth, Victor, Benny, Charlie, Bobby, Jody, and Cas (who has nestled himself right next to Dean, a comfortable position for both of them). Ellen and Jo arrive and depart frequently but the noise level never drops a decibel. They have commandeered a booth as well as a table, and conversations rise and fall like ocean waves. Jody has taken it upon herself to mother Kevin at this important juncture; always making sure he has an extra napkin and enough ice and Coca-Cola in his cup. Kevin assures her repeatedly that she doesn’t need to do any of that, but secretly he’s delighted. Bobby just looks on with tenderness and pride. When Dean asks him about the click and wink, however, a hint of a frown suffuses the gruff spa owner’s features.

“I dunno why your father ever gave you that idea in the first place, Dean; I’m amazed it even worked. Jody’s a POLICE OFFICER, y’know, and she’s gotta follow the letter of the law, so when I had my hand in the shape of a gun in my apron pocket, she slammed me to the wall and immediately frisked me.” Dean’s eyes have widened and then he bursts out laughing. “It isn’t funny, idjit! I’m just lucky that Jody is also a fair woman, so after she realized I didn’t actually have a gun she pinned those gorgeous eyes of hers on me, gave me her deluxe Mom Look, and ordered: ‘Explain’. So I did—as soon as I mentioned you that won her over. She started laughing. Thank God; for a red-hot-minute I was sure she was gonna cuff me and take me downtown.”

“Shit, Bobby, if that had happened, I’d’ve come and bailed you out of jail!” Dean crows. Bobby snorts and rolls his eyes.

“Why does that idea not comfort me in the slightest?”

~~~The reel winds to a stop; Final Curtain Comes Down~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on the Text: I fuckin love the idea for this work (originally meant to be an AU); courtesy of a tumblr post about Sam Winchester’s LSAT score being lower than Elle’s {174 vs 179, five whole points?! Come on, Sammy!}…so naturally I had to wonder what it would be like if the characters from Supernatural were actually part of Elle Woods’ universe —how could they survive? ;-P Frankly I saw Dean as being more like Elle, even though Sam was the soon-to-be law student canonically. Something about Dean’s inner issues and doubts made me write him in her place. There are some distinct nods to canon, and I got some quotes from the original script of Legally Blonde off imdsb, but I made a few glorious changes/additions because I felt like it; and if you’ve got a problem with that, well, you should’ve read another story. 
> 
>  
> 
> Note #2: This story was written with the hint of it possibly being the basic script of a movie or a play. I didn’t want to make it a true script with the characters’ dialogue and nothing else—personally, I don’t think seeing something like this:
> 
> ‘CROWLEY-You little swine. How do you think you’re going to get away with this?! I am your professor. I taught you everything you know. (sneers at Kevin) He’s a law STUDENT. He can’t defend you.
> 
> [KEVIN makes no reply]
> 
> [DEAN moves closer to the table where the lawyer and his client are sitting]
> 
> DEAN-(clearing his throat) Oh really? That’s funny. Maybe you need to be reminded of the rules. Sammy?
> 
> SAM-(leaning forward over the rail while reading from a big leather book) So get this: Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court Rule number 3:03.
> 
> DEAN-(smiling at Crowley) See?’
> 
> Holds the same dramatic literary resonance as: ‘“You little swine,” Crowley hisses at Dean. “How do you think you’re going to get away with this?! I am your professor. I taught you everything you know.” To Kevin with a sneer: “He’s a law STUDENT. He can’t defend you.” Kevin doesn’t deign to reply. Dean, however, clears his throat and moves a bit closer to the lawyer’s chair.
> 
> “Oh really? That’s funny. Maybe you need to be reminded of the rules. Sammy?” Sam grins at Dean and leans forward over the wooden rail, opening a bookmarked leather-bound book that Garth has just handed to him. 
> 
> “So get this: Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court Rule 3:03.” Dean smiles angelically at Crowley.
> 
> “See?” Crowley makes a threatening movement . . .’
> 
>  
> 
> Note # 3: Some discerning readers may also notice that I didn’t include the actual seizure of Crowley’s possessions; I also omitted the testimony Kevin gave Dean as evidence in court. I have a couple of reasons for this—one: I thought detailing the initial office search would make the courtroom scene anticlimactic. Two: I don’t know enough legal lingo to make such a scene even semi-realistic. This also pertains to Dean’s talk with Kevin. As well as making the reasons for Mrs. Tran’s murder much more convoluted, it would detract from the mysterious horror conjured up by Kevin’s visual impressions when he gave them to Dean in the prison visiting room. And three: demonic possession, at least in my view, isn’t a crime with enough probable legal cause for someone to be incarcerated. 
> 
>  
> 
> Note # 4: I have come to the realization that this story would have to take place in the Supernatural universe. Poor Sam and Dean! =/ …but my main reason for making this change away from an AU are my allusions to Crowley—and Lilith—being demons. Also Judge Moseley’s skillzzz and Kevin’s—for lack of a better world, and because Crowley IS rather erudite—prescience. In my optimistic mind, John Winchester actually HONORED his wife’s dearest wish and did not raise their sons to be hunters. This does not make John less of an asshole personality-wise, but it makes me feel better about the great amount of passion and care he possessed (and continued to possess) for the love of his life and their two sons.


End file.
